


Seeing the light of dead stars

by DarkmoonSigel



Series: The Notes Played In Between [42]
Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Asperger Syndrome, BAMF Hannibal, BAMF Will Graham, Carl Grimes - Freeform, Dark Will Graham, Feels, First Kiss, First Meetings, Guest Stars, Hannibal is Hannibal, Hannibal is a Cannibal, Horror, Idiots in Love, Kinda?, Lori Grimes - Freeform, M/M, Manipulative Hannibal, Mildly Dubious Consent, Nudity, Porn With Plot, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Hannibal, Possessive Nigel, Possessive Will, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychopaths In Love, Sexy Times, Shane Walsh - Freeform, Showers, Slow Burn, Spacedogs Appreciation Week, Survival Horror, Touching, Zombie Apocalypse, actual walking dead characters in chapter 5, patience please, rick grimes - Freeform, yes will and hannibal are in this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-05-19 21:17:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5981248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkmoonSigel/pseuds/DarkmoonSigel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little Spacedog AU set in the Walking Dead verse.</p><p>NOW WITH MORE CHAPTERS CAUSE YOU ASKED FOR MORE.<br/>Feedback works.</p><p>NOW WITH EVEN MORE CHAPTER AND HANNIGRAM!</p><p>NOW ONGOING! I HOPE YOU ALL ARE PLEASED WITH YOURSELVES ABOUT THIS!</p><p>UPDATE- NOW WITH ACTUAL WALKING DEAD CHARACTER BUT ONLY IN CHAPTER 5</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> “So all these years-since when-he had been seeing the light of dead stars. Long extinguished, yet seemingly still in their appointed places in the heavens.” - Paz Marquez Benitez

Adam watched the end of the world from his apartment’s second story window, peeking through the drawn curtains when people started screaming and dying in the streets below as they were eaten alive by the newly risen dead. Not knowing what else to do, Adam checked to make sure that the front door was locked and then began to fill anything that could hold water from the tap, including the bathtub and all the sinks. He had just gone grocery shopping so his freezer was full with enough precooked chicken, mac and cheese, and broccoli. He would be fine for a few weeks if he rationed out his food. If the power grid failed, the pantry was full with All-Bran and Lipton chicken noodle soup packets. Socializing never coming easy, Adam didn’t like grocery shopping so he always bought in bulk, even more so this last trip. He realized then it would probably his last trip ever to the grocery store. Everything would be different now. 

There had been warning signs about this sort of things all over the internet. The first videos about the attacks had been pegged by the media as fake and no cause for concern. Enough scientists that Adam chatted with on a regular basis about space and its contents had said otherwise though. Thinking it prudent to do so while he still could, Adam asked their advice in the matter, taking down pages of careful notes. During his last shopping trip, Adam had made it a point to stock up on ridiculous amounts of batteries, medical supplies, canned food, bottled water, duct tape, bullets, and other various and seemingly random items like cans of WD-40 and camping equipment. He didn’t care about the amount of money he spent from his savings. If his and other scientists’ predictions were correct, money wouldn’t matter soon enough. 

Various store had had to deliver it all for him, his purchases too much for him to carry back home all by himself. Adam stored all the supplies in his father’s room, hoping the dearly departed elder Raki wouldn’t being returning home anytime to use it. Looking up the make and model of the coffin his father had been buried in, Adam calculated that it was highly unlikely due to the depth his father’s grave and the integrity of modern coffins. He wondered why other people weren’t doing the same thing though, preparing like he was. No one seemed to be too worried about the virus that was spreading like wildfire whether the media wanted to admit it or not, or what it was doing to the deceased. Adam didn’t know how to bring it up in conversation or if he should. Even Harlan didn’t seem too concerned about it the last time they had talked, though Adam taken it upon himself to tell Harlan to leave the city as soon as possible even if the old man didn’t understand why. He hoped Harlan had listened to him. 

Wishing he could have followed his own advice, Adam chose to stay in his apartment until he felt comfortable enough to leave. People with Asperger’s Syndrome could change, could be open and flexible to it. They just had to do it on their own terms and in their own time. Adam decided he would know when it was the right time to leave, so he fortified the door’s framework and while he still could, bought a heavy new door made of metal, having it delivered so that he could install it himself. 

Unlike most horror movies about monsters would suggest, it didn’t happen at night or even very slowly, at least not in New York. Adam theorized it was due to the amount of people who lived such a small contained space. It seemed like one bite was all it took to make a person eventually turn, Adam watching the video’s over and over again to study the outbreak. The end of world happened around three in the afternoon which surprised Adam as he made note of it. He had often been told by Harlan that 3pm was too early or too late to really do anything of merit. The universe begged to differ, the walking dead sweeping through the streets of Manhattan, attacking and eating anything that was still alive and kicking. 

Turning off all his lights and drawing his curtains at the sounds of the first screams, Adam watched from the shadows, holding his hands over his ears. He needed to study the walkers but not be noticed by them. From what he had gathered from the videos, which had been becoming more and more frequent of late, sudden movements attracted their attention. Light did as well, so while the power held, Adam took great care not be make himself a beacon. Having grown up in this space his entire life, he didn’t need to anyway, having long ago memorized the layout of the apartment and all the furniture in it. Adam moved like a ghost while the dead rose back to their feet.

A few neighbors or people trying to get off the streets had pounded on his door, but Adam had remained quiet, knowing that they couldn’t get in with all the new changes made to the entrance. He hid his face behind his palms and stuffed his shaking fingers in his mouth to keep from crying or making a sound as people were attacked and eaten in the hallway a few feet from where he sat. Focusing on what he could, Adam reasoned that the dead were attracted by sound as well. Being a naturally quiet person, Adam decided he could do that best in his bedroom while everything that lay outside his front door sorted itself out. He screamed into his pillows until his throat was raw.

In that days that followed, Adam studying this new world from his windows, staying out of sight and careful to not make a sound. Several somethings paced out his door in the halls, bumping into each other or the walls. The constant noise of it made Adam want to panic. Knowing that would probably cause him a very painful death, Adam took endless notes instead and wrote down observations about what was happening. Other people had taken to the notion of staying in their apartments as well, but Adam realized that they had not been as well prepared as him. The living’s hunger drove them out into the open arms and chatting teeth of the dead’s own, Adam witnessing attempt after failed attempt of survivors emerging from their hiding places to be outnumbered and cornered in an instant by the too numerous dead. The blatant attempts were usually accompanied by a lot of gunfire. Adam had considered getting a gun but had decided against it, having no experience with firearms although it was something he studied now. Other people’s mistakes confirmed this notion and his other theories, the noise of gunfire sounding off a feeding frenzy by attracting more walkers.

It was the people who tried to sneak past the dead that interested Adam the most though. Human eyeballs were mostly water and had the consistency of a grape, so they rotted out fast and first. By that observation, Adam reasoned that the walkers’ eyesight must be quite poor, which was why quick movement and light sources drew their attentions while subtler motions went unnoticed. It was when the dead tilted their heads back to scent the air that Adam knew yet another way of how they hunted the living. 

It was only an idea though, and needed to be tested. If this were true, if one could simply move slowly enough and not give off a scent, then one should be fine. Reviewing everything over and over again, Adam knew if he were to prove this right, he would have to figure out a way of going outside his apartment. He also knew that he couldn’t stay here. His supplies would eventually run out and then he would start making poor decisions based on fear and bodily needs. The power would also eventually go off, he was actually astonished that it was still on this long, and Adam only had a finite amount of batteries to work with. It was time to leave.

Sighing, Adam padded around his apartment in a pair of socks to reduce noise and took stock of what he had, which was a lot. Too much for him to carry all by himself. Some sort of transport would have to be acquired, he decided and hard decisions would have to be made about what could come along with him. All his telescopes were out of the question and really too delicate for transport. He also had to decide where his final destination would be. While the web had still been up, Adam had printed off a few locations outside the city that just might suit his purposes. It was getting to them all in one piece that was the challenge.

Sighing, Adam began the long process of implementing his new life into action. 

OoOoO

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!”

Nigel chanted out the words, knowing he should be saving his precious air for running. That was all he did now was run. The entire world had gone to shit, his feet had hit the pavement, and they hadn’t really stopped since everything had gone to hell in a handbasket. He often wondered now who had pissed off the Devil enough to make the evil bastard leave open the gates of Hell, flooding the surface of the earth with its occupants. 

The once most feared and most powerful drug lord in all of Europe, Nigel realized in these dark days that he had humbled into being the human version of a rabbit, hiding in holes and running from a world full of predators that wanted to eat him. His fucking luck, he had been in the States when the shit hit the fan, the dead getting up from where they had fallen to shrug off hails of bullets and answer back with gaping mouths and sharp teeth. After a lifetime of making other people scared, Nigel began to believe in karma because he couldn’t remember the last time he had felt safe. 

The American army had turned out to be useless, learning too late it was only head shots that really counted. After trying the whole group survivor thing, Nigel decided to go it alone after the last batch of crybaby morons starting piss poor judgement calls. No one breathing he met seemed to have a good plan other than ‘let’s find an army base’ cause that always went well. Nigel had a plan though. He was trying to make it back to the New York shoreline to steal a boat, a really big boat. One that was stocked with food and booze. All he wanted to do was get back to Romania or to some place that made sense. Everywhere he went though, people made stupid ass decisions. Everyone was still playing by the old rules and expecting the dead to play along with them. No such luck for those sentimental fuckers.

Nigel was grateful that despite some of his vices, he had never really let his body go to shit. He was almost fifty but he outrun and outmaneuver just about anything, including the dead. Parkour had not been a choice to learn but a calling he had answered if he wanted to survive, Nigel taking to the sport like a fish to water. God and all his angels knew he had enough proper motivation to learn, that motivation literally wanting to bite him in the ass. There was no room for failure in this game of life, Nigel using walls and corners and his own body’s power to make his way up to rooftops, over barriers, and always stay two steps ahead of the walkers. With the balance of a gymnast and the grace of a dancer he never knew he could have been in another life, Nigel survived by his wit, speed, and skin of his teeth.

What he did not have was a sense of direction. He had somehow ended up in rural New York with nary an ocean in sight, just more mountains. Following road and maps, Nigel had no idea how he had managed to do that. He was in yet another bum fuck, Stephen King-like tiny town, being chased by the dead. The car he had liberated from a parking lot back in New Jersey had died on him just a few miles back, forcing Nigel to look for another vehicle or some gas on foot. Some walkers had met him along the way, taking an interest in him.

Like all things did, his Devil’s luck eventually ran out. Or maybe he was just tired of running. Whatever happened, all Nigel knew was that he had mis-stepped and fucked up, falling flat on his ass. He had no ammo left, hadn’t eaten in almost a week, and was dangerously dehydrated. He had no idea where he was anymore. Lighting his last cigarette, Nigel sighed as the dead approached him, deciding maybe it was time to finally give up the ghost. 

Dying from thirst and starvation was doing funny things to him anyway, Nigel decided, because he was beginning to hallucinate. Looking like a white, fluffy marshmallow, a spaceman was approaching him and his undead entourage, pulling a little red wagon full of stuff behind him. The spaceman stopped just a few feet away from their little gathering to raise what looked like a gun with a potato stuck to the end of it. Nigel didn’t really know where to look, face his death or make sense of an astronaut with a potato gun. 

Firing the gun cause the potato to explode, the tuber muffling the sound much like a silencer would, the bullet taking out one of the walking dead’s head along with it. Nigel watched in amazement as the gun was dropped but not lost, the weapon ziplined back to the spaceman’s tool belt as he reached for another potato gun. He took out six of the nearest walker near Nigel like this. The skinbags didn’t seem to register the spaceman at all standing right in front of them, not even as he drew close now to cave in their brittle heads with a sledgehammer. 

Very soon, Nigel was surrounded by the things that had been trying to eat him, the spaceman and Nigel the only two left in the open for the time being. The faceplate of the spaceman’s helmet was opaque, Nigel wondering what the hell was going on as he shakily stood up to try and look in.

The street they were on was surprisingly clear, no walkers currently in sight on this little town’s main street, still decorated for some sort of festival. Nigel nearly jumped out of his skin when the spaceman bumped him with something cool. It took a moment but Nigel soon realized that he was being offered bottled water and a granola bar.

Unsure if he was going crazy or not, Nigel tore into both. He finished them far too quickly, the nourishment barely putting a dent in his appetite. Instead of more food and water, the spaceman handed Nigel a pile of clothes before a small air tank was set down at his feet. Motioning for Nigel to put it on the strange outfit, the spaceman busied himself by fishing out more potatoes from his little red wagon to place on the end of his guns.

The clothing turned out to be a weird double layered body wet suit of some sort, the helmet going along with it appeared to be something straight out of science fiction. Besides being fugly, it looked like the bastard child of scuba diving gear and a Stormtroopers’ helmet. Shrugging, Nigel put in on anyway over his clothing, taking off his shoes so that he could struggle into it. The final touch was the spaceman handing Nigel a roll of duct tape, and motioning him to seal the minor gap between the wet suit and the helmet. Doing just that and shouldering the air tank, Nigel complied, because fuck, this guy had something going for him. The spaceman helped him connect the two, the taste of metallic air from the tank almost refreshing. Nigel had almost forgotten what air smelled like with it wasn’t tainted by rotting flesh.

Kind of glad that most of the population was dead to not witness him in his new apparel as he shoved his feet back inside his shoes, Nigel followed the spaceman who dragged his little red wagon a block over to a waiting shopping cart full of more random things and started to unload his haul into it. Walkers shuffled off in the distance, but the spaceman didn’t seem to mind their presence. Though the suit didn’t restrict his movement much, the air tank on his back was bulky and an added weight. Wondering why the fuck he was wearing it all, Nigel tried to estimate how quickly he could rid of it all he had to bolt, the walkers shambling toward them.

Glancing over the spaceman though, Nigel realized that his hallucination didn’t appear to be too bothered by this, taking his sweet ass time rearranging things in the shopping cart. He even took the time to pull out a can of WD-40 and spray the wheels with it. Nigel knew how this story ended though, already shuffling back to break out into a run. The spaceman must have noticed because he moved quicker than Nigel had thought possible in that suit, grabbing for Nigel’s right hand to place it on the cart, motioning for him to keep it there. Nigel’s left hand was held, the spaceman using his own to help direct the cart as well. 

Stunned that his hallucination was feeling very real, Nigel bit back a scream as walker came within biting distance to him.

And walked right past him and the spaceman. Panting hard enough to fog up his part of his goggles, Nigel watched as the other walkers followed suit, ignoring the strange pair as they made their way down the street. Hand being tugged, Nigel was pulled out of his stupor, helping the spaceman push his cart. Nigel had no idea where the spaceman was taking him, watching in wonder as they meandered their way past dozens of dead, not one of the fuckers bothering them. 

By the time they got of town, Nigel was shaking, barely able to walk. He leaned heavily on the cart to propel it forward and tried not to throw up the water and granola bar he had wolfed down. Now Nigel was no stranger to chaos and danger, but taking a stroll like that through the dead was beyond anything.

The spaceman still held his hand, keeping Nigel there beside him and walking. The two of them stayed liked that for what seemed like hours, first down a country road and then down a dirt one. At the end of the dirt road, was a large house set up on a river with a watermill busily spinning, a high fence around it. The few dead that were around were quickly dispatched, the spaceman taking them out one by one with his sledgehammer with no fight from any of them. It was like they never saw it coming or knew he was there. The gate was unlocked, the spaceman waving in Nigel who did a second sweep of the property as the spaceman locked up again. He noticed a fuck load of cameras though, and most surprisingly, all of them appeared to be working.

The inside of the house was just as weird. The walls, floors, ceiling, and every other surface had grey padding all over them, the window covered with the shit. Even better though, the place had power, Nigel taking off his helmet to be hit with air conditioning. Nigel could have died a happy man then and there.

“Would you like some more water? You look dehydrated.” Said a voice, making Nigel remember that he was not alone. The voice belonged to a young man, probably ten years younger than himself, with chocolate brown curls and the softest blue eyes Nigel had ever seen. He was partially stripped down and not wearing much besides the space suit he stepped out of. “You can talk in here. I’ve soundproofed the building and the windows have been painted over and padded…”

The man would have said more, but Nigel reached for him, pulling the man close to him so that they were chest to chest, blue eyes staring back wide and white ringed with sudden fear. Not wasting a second, Nigel pressed his thin lips to parted ones, licking his way into a sweet, hot mouth that tasted faintly of peppermint. Nigel couldn’t even imagine what he tasted like, and didn’t much care. The body flush to his own was warm and so wonderfully alive, and that was enough. Nigel’s body had other issues though, the man’s stomach growling loudly enough to part the two for some much needed air.

“I’m Adam.” The younger man panted out, looking a little stunned.

“I’m Nigel.”


	2. Undergound, the stars are legend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of the Spacedog/Walking Dead AU. Once again, no actual Walking Dead characters used. The story is just set in the universe is all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Underground, the stars are legend  
> -Carrie Hope Fisher
> 
> Back by popular demand. You asked for it. You got it.

The spaceman said his name was Adam. His skin tasted salty, feeling warm beneath Nigel’s touch, and he smelled faintly of body odor, sour and musky and yet oddly sweet but yet very much alive. Nigel realized that the suit must make Adam sweat his balls off every time he wore it. He was not put off by the scent as he kept the living man close to him. He had finally found safe harbor for a hot second so he was going to anchor the mooring of his sanity here as long as he could.

“Why did you kiss me?” Adam asked. He wasn’t opposed to being held or shown affection, but he wasn’t used to it either. The only people who had ever hugged him had been his parents. Oh, and Harlan from time to time, usually one armed affairs that he called a proper ‘man hug’. Adam never understood the need to give actions or concepts a gender. He had just gotten the hang of ‘man talk’ before the apocalypse.

Unsure of where to put his hands, Adam settled them on Nigel’s hips, the stranger with the even stranger accent still wearing the prototype suit. Aesthetically, it fit Nigel rather well, the man having long legs, a lean physique, and a very graceful way of moving. He was also very strong, not letting Adam move away from him as his thin lips continued to graze Adam’s face. It was hard to avoid those warm brown eyes that studied him so intently but Adam managed it, shifting uncomfortably in place.

“I needed to convince myself that I wasn’t going crazy. That you were real.” Nigel said, speaking the words softly into Adam’s soft skin as he explored the man’s face with his lips. He needed to let go, knowing that he was being too intense and weird, but the world was fucked, the dead walked, and he had just been saved by some guy dressed up as an astronaut. The world and the words that existed in it were in flux at the moment, being redefined. 

“I’m obviously real!” Adam sputtered, drawing back but just allowed far enough to look at Nigel to see if he was joking or not. Not that he could tell, but he needed to put some distance between them too, the closeness beginning to stifle Adam. He didn’t know why this man seemed so intent on keeping him as close as possible. 

“I didn’t know that, not at first. Strange thing to see, even in these stranger times. A spaceman walking down a street, killing the undead with potatoes.” Nigel sighed out, running his rough hands over the softest skin he had felt in a long, long time before letting them fall away. Adam was fidgeting and growing shaky under his touch, and he needed to stop now while he still could. He had been a special kind of violent crazy before the end of the world so he didn’t need to warp that into something worse. Nigel was pretty damn sure no one left alive was the definition of sane anymore, but he needed to clutch to what remnants he had left. 

“It was actually the bullets that stopped the walkers, not the potatoes. I just use them as a form of silencer. Loud noises draws groups, making it difficult to navigate through them.” Adam corrected, grateful that the man had let him go as he rubbed his hands up and down his arms. He needed to shower, feeling covered in his own salt and grimy from sweat. 

“Are you some kind of survivalist nut?” Nigel asked, gesturing around them, though he supposed those kind of people couldn’t be called crazy anymore considering that they had been right all along to some extent.

“No. I’m an electrical engineer.” Adam said, moving to clean out his suit and check it for any signs of damage. He had made it out of the city and survived this long because of it.

“Why the potatoes?” Nigel said, following after Adam. The urge to cling to him was frightening, making Nigel growl internally at himself in disgust. This wasn’t the right world or time for addictions in any form. Luckily, it didn’t seem like this Adam guy was holding the breach of polite conduct against him. He seemed more intent on cleaning out and disinfecting his gear than dwelling on it. 

“I have too many of them. They will go bad before I have a chance to eat them. I considered pickling them, but I do not like the taste.” Adam explained, going through the practiced motions of caring for his most important equipment before hanging it up. “They grow in overabundance in the garden out back, though I don’t think that was the intent of the original owner.”

“So, not your house?” Nigel asked, not that he cared. As far as he was concerned, everything was up for grabs now. Finders, keepers and all that. 

“No, though I have made numerous modifications to it. Before the internet died, I looked up shipping orders for solar panels in the state of New York. This house had the largest shipment and installation of them. I chose it due to that, and the hydropower provided by the waterwheel. The former owner was very thorough.” Adam said, “The only significant changes I made to the structure was the soundproofing, some alterations to the roof, and securing the tunnels that run under the house from the basement.”

“You’ll have to give me the full tour later.” Nigel murmured, looking around now to actually acknowledge his surroundings. Something wasn’t sitting well with him about the house, something vague he couldn’t put his finger on. The house itself with all its rooms and mosaic floor tile work must have been an expensive thing, the structure having vaulted ceilings and at one time, large windows that would have looked out onto the extensive woodland property. The framework and placement for them was still there but the fragile glass was blocked and filled in by what looked like empty water bottles filled with sand, the spaces between filled with mortar like strange brickwork. “I need to eat something other than granola.”

“I have mac and cheese.” Adam said, checking the time. It was a little early in the day for the meal, but better early than late. 

“Sounds like heaven.” Nigel said, meaning it though he wasn’t sure what the hell ‘mac’ was. If it was even remotely edible, he was going to eat it. Moving out of the entranceway, Nigel took in Adam’s living room with its covered walls and blocked windows. The furniture was all antique and obviously expensive, made from rare wood and rich materials, standing out in stark contrast against Adam’s remodeling.

All the windows were filled in the same way, while the walls were covered with a grey spongey foam, looking a lot like packing material, instead of artwork or wallpaper. For all its space, it made the house feel ominously claustrophobic and cave like, but it was brightly lit and there was air conditioning so Nigel tapped down his unease and told it to shut the fuck up. The skull graven into the floor by the front entrance was a reminder of something other than mortality though, Nigel recognizing the replication of the foyer in the Palazzo of the Capponi. Intuition whispered the answer to Nigel who ignored it in favor of following Adam further into the house. Really, what were the odds out of all the houses in all the world?

The main wall of the living room which Nigel was sure now had originally exhibited some sort of pretentious, rare artwork was now entirely covered with televisions, every screen obviously wired to one of the many cameras outside to give the person living inside this fortress a complete 360 degree view of what was going on. An adjacent wall informed the viewer what was going on inside the house, a camera in every room and hallway as well. Another wall showed what was going on in what Nigel could only presume were the tunnels Adam had mentioned earlier. Survivalist nut or not, Adam had certainly kept himself busy and on the careful side of paranoid.

Following Adam into the elegant, well stocked kitchen with its ostentatious wine room off to the side only confirmed Nigel’s suspicions, as if the choice in furniture’s décor hadn’t been glaringly obvious enough. If the kitchen’s chef was still alive, Nigel wondered what he would think about his once gorgeous bay windows being filled in like that and all his painting taken down to be replaced with ugly coarse grey fuzz. Whether he had been too busy to do so or just didn’t give a shit, Adam had not felt the need to overlay his personality over the former owner’s sense of style. Unless it was in the way or didn’t serve a purpose, Adam had left a lot of the house as it had been from what Nigel could tell. Adam came off as practical and a little odd, the man still in his underwear, looking out as place as his alterations in the house that death built. 

“I can figure out from here if you want to go get dressed.” Nigel offered, not that he minded but he needed to keep his hands to himself. He had no intentions in going outside again anytime soon, and as long as Adam wasn’t the bad kind of crazy that tended to develop in these desperate times, staying in his host’s good graces would go a long way toward that. As much as he would like to stay close to Adam and feel his warmth, it was still too early to let his guard down or trust Adam. He still didn’t even know why the spaceman had saved him. If their situations had been reversed, odds were Nigel would not have done the same.

“I would prefer to shower before I do that. I thought you wanted to eat something though.” Adam said, not knowing what to do. He hadn’t been sociable or done well with other people before the end of the world. After not seeing another living human being in months, even just having one here and now with him was almost too overwhelming. Nigel was staring at him for some reason with wide eyes, like he was surprised or perhaps frightened. Adam glanced over at the monitor wired in the kitchen to check for walkers, the screen flipping through different camera views. None of his alarms had gone off though either, so Adam reasoned it must be for some other reason.

“Oh fuck me blind, you have a working shower?” Nigel asked, not daring to hope, the hunger in his belly be damned. The need to be clean again warred openly with hunger, winning out in the end. 

“Um, y-yes.” Adam said, unsure of what to do with Nigel’s sudden excitement or knowing what it was about. Anything else he had to say on the matter was spoken to empty air, Nigel already taking off in search of a shower. Adam found his guest easily enough, following and picking up a trial of clothing that led him to one of the many bathrooms in the house. Steam was already starting to billow out from behind the hastily drawn curtain, Nigel groaning behind it. The noises of it were so deep and throaty, reminding Adam of scenes from his favorite porn as he stood there to listen in on Nigel moaning in ecstasy. Adam jumped in surprise when the shower curtain was violently ripped back off its rings, revealing a very naked and wet Nigel who was cussing rapid fire in some other language at him. 

“Fuck you scared me.” Nigel said, shakily switching back to English as his back hit the tiled wall so he could keep standing. Knees weak and body twitching despite the delicious heat covering him, Nigel cursed at himself for letting his guard down like that. He hadn’t even checked out the rest of the house first to make sure it was actually safe and not some death trap with a former family member trapped in a closet somewhere because people were that kind of stupid crazy now. The universe as it was could have killed him several times over by now for his carelessness.

“I-I’m sorry.” Adam stammered, still holding the suit and Nigel’s stinking clothes in his arms. He was going to have to wash everything. It didn’t smell like Nigel had had access to laundry detergent or soap in a very long while. Deciding it was best to leave and sort that out along with his own shower and dinner, Adam paused when he noticed that Nigel was trembling. Hoping he wasn’t the cause of it, Adam debated with himself whether or not to ask Nigel if he was feeling alright. 

“Stay.” Nigel managed out through his teeth. The damn things wouldn’t stop chattering as he suddenly ran cold. He knew it was shock and stress taking its toll, his body doling out the payment for experiencing both for extended periods of time, along with too little food, water, and uninterrupted sleep. Fuck for all he knew, Adam was as fucked up as the rest of them and was probably going to murder in some interesting yet horrific way, but Nigel couldn’t bring himself to care much about that though. 

Too exhausted to be ashamed about anything, his nudity or blatant fear, Nigel sank down to his knees to sit in the shower, letting the water weep over him because he was too weary to cry for himself. He felt too raw, too hungry, too tired, too much of everything to do anything else but sit there. If this guy Adam got his rocks off watching other people shower, let him. If he was planning on killing Nigel at some point, then he would just have to deal with that shit later, ‘later’ being the key word here. Right here and now, Nigel was done, watching with unseeing eyes as Adam shimmied out of his underwear to join Nigel in the shower.   
Gentle fingers began washing his silvery hair, the locks of it longer than Nigel liked but it wasn’t like there were barbers around anymore to fix that for him. Light touches were places to his many tattoos and numerous scars, the largest of them along his left side. An ugly thick twisted trail of ruined skin was testament to Nigel’s lack of medical skill. He had sewn himself up after someone had worked the sharp end of a knife into his flesh. Nigel had won that fight but had been left with one hell of a reminder about being careless. 

Speaking of being careless, Nigel knew he should be dead right now, his meat in some walker’s belly and his corpse shuffling about. Instead he had being cared for by gentler hands than he knew he deserved, Adam cleaning months of filth off of Nigel and mercifully staying quiet about it. The shaking stopped eventually under Adam’s care, Nigel feeling drained empty from it. He knew he still needed to eat and drink some water but the kitchen seemed miles away now instead of just a few feet. The water finally turning cold and their skin pruning was the only motivation that pried Nigel out of the shower. He could have fallen asleep there and drowned for all he cared. 

Adam left him to dry off as silently as he had come in, leaving to parts of the house unknown. Feeling pathetic, Nigel had to bite his tongue until it was bloody to keep from calling the man back to him. Focusing on anything else, Nigel considered Adam as he dried himself off with towels that felt unnaturally soft and clean, before knotting the damp material around his waist. The thought of redressing himself in his old clothing made Nigel’s skin crawl. Sitting down on the toilet seat, Nigel had a feeling he could get something to wear from Adam. He didn’t get a bad vibe off of the odd man. Something wasn’t right about him that was for damn sure, his mannerisms and eye contact off, but he wasn’t a bad person, not in the kind of way Nigel was or the people he had used to associate with were. Adam could be his own special brand of evil, but Nigel highly doubted it. He knew evil, in all its many forms and faces.

The person in mind come into view again, this time fully dressed in soft looking drawstring pants and a long sleeved shirt, the material all in shades of blue that did amazing things for Adam’s eyes. Nigel caught himself staring up at the man who gaze never met his own and didn’t seem to notice or acknowledge Nigel’s rude behavior.

“Do you any spare clothes? Something that might fit me?” Nigel asked, not bothering to get up. He reached out to touch Adam’s pants, savoring the feel of soft cotton as he tugged at the material. Adam drew close to him again, Nigel resting his forehead against Adam’s belly with a sigh. The man he leaned against and held on to again made no move to resist or reciprocate. 

“Y-yes.” Adam answered, at a loss. Nigel was holding him close again, but at least he wasn’t shaking anymore. Not knowing what to do with his hands this time, Adam kept them by his sides while Nigel’s own arms curled over his back and under the curve of his butt. When no other answer or offer came from Adam, Nigel looked up at him, resting his chin against the flat of Adam’s stomach. 

“What kind of crazy are you?” Nigel asked, not really expecting an answer, and especially not an honest one. 

“I’m not crazy. Sometimes i-i-it’s hard for me to, um…” Adam began, really wishing he knew where he could put his hands. If he knew that, this might be easier for him to say. Nigel was too close again and all around him. It was overwhelming, especially after being alone and lonely for so long. “I have this thing that makes it hard to, um to a, um... It’s called Asperger’s syndrome.” 

“Is it contagious?” Nigel asked, his interest perked. 

“No, no, no. I-It’s a highly functioning form of autism. It’s genetic, not a pathogen. My brain is just wired differently than yours.” Adam said quickly, his words beginning to run into each other in his haste to explain. “One thing about it is not knowing what people are thinking, like right now. Why do you keep touching me?”

“Because the world in a fucked place and I am in limbo.” Nigel told him.

“I don’t understand.” Adam sighed. “Sometimes I can’t understand neurotypicals like yourself, especially when they mean something different from what they’re actually saying.”

“I believe we neurotypicals call that lying. You don’t do that? You don’t lie?” Nigel asked, intrigued despite his aching hunger and exhaustion.

“No. Most Aspies are really honest.” Adam shook his head. He ended up staring down at Nigel, wondering what the man was laughing about as he tried to bury his face into Adam’s stomach. 

“Of all the people left in the world…” Nigel gasped, unable to contain his amusement about the life’s twisted sense of humor. He was beginning to doubt that any of this was real, the house and its former owner or Adam. Nigel was half convinced he was caught in some moment of dying and living out his last few seconds in a dream. 

“I’m sorry.” Adam said, flustered and taking everything the wrong way. “Another part of Asperger’s is mind blindness. I had to learn to ask what other people are thinking.”

“I am thinking that I am cold and need clothing. That I am hungry and need something to eat and drink. Can and will you give me these things?” Nigel said, rewording his response to watch Adam’s face light up with sudden understanding.

“Yes, but you are going to have to let me go.” Adam nodded.

“You’re asking a lot, my darling Adam.” Nigel smiled, liking how Adam’s name sounded coming off of his lips but did as the man bid.

“I don’t understand how.” Adam said, Nigel only chuckling in response as he slowly stood up and following the other man out into the kitchen. It was almost surreal to watch Adam take frozen food out of the freezer and pop it into a microwave. The appliance was hidden in its own designated cupboard from open view, like its former owner was ashamed of its presence here. Nigel couldn’t bring himself to look away from the once commonplace event, reveling in the fact that it was working. He noted that Adam left and came back, setting down a soft looking pile of clothing next to Nigel. The microwave’s timer dinging broke the spell on Nigel, the man quickly getting dressed while Adam plated the food. Nigel ignored the fact the tailored, expensive clothing obviously belonged to the house’s true owner and that they fitted him almost perfectly as well as complimented his colorations. He smirked though upon noticing that he had a leaner waistline as the fitted slacks hung loose on his hips. Someone had let themselves go soft in their old age. 

Digging into the food, Nigel burnt his tongue but was past caring once the hot food hit his mouth. Unable to remember the last time he’d had a warm meal of any real substance, Nigel barely kept himself from shoveling the food down his throat, not wanting to get sick. Mac and cheese turned out to be ordinary elbow pasta covered in a rich cheese sauce, but it tasted like all the best kinds of sin to Nigel who threw away what was left of his dignity to lick the plate clean, completely done before Adam was even halfway through his own. Despite his best efforts in restraint, his stomach was already not happy with him about the rate of the food consumed or the heaviness of it. Feeling queasy, Nigel sipped at the glass of water Adam had given him, determined to keep it all down. Adam was watching a show while he ate, something called ‘Inside the Actor’s Studio’ and he was living for every word uttered by its host, his lips moving silently along with the dialogue. 

“Why did you save me?” Nigel asked, desperate for some sort of distraction as his body made up its mind. 

“I needed someone to test out the prototype.” Adam answered honestly, too honestly for his own good. Setting down the glass out of his immediate reach for now, Nigel was glad that they’d had their moment in the bathroom or else this could have gotten ugly and all sorts bloody in the blink of an eye. On the plus side, Nigel noted that rage cut through nausea with ease, like a knife through flesh.

“The suit? The thing I wore outside.” Nigel focused on stringing words together, watching Adam eating his pasta. He was more involved with watching his DVD than paying attention to his words and their effect on his company. 

“You used me as a lab rat? What if it hadn’t worked?” Nigel asked, sucking in his bottom lip before letting it go as he considered the man before him. Adam had been speaking the truth about not knowing what people were thinking. Anyone else would have been cowering before Nigel by now from the look on his face alone. 

“Then I would have known immediately that the polymer bindings between the two wet suits was insufficient.” Adam said, finishing his plate to turn off the laptop. Now that he had eaten, he could focus on Nigel again, the man apparently wanting to have dinner conversation which Harlan had always joked was a lost art form for some reason. Adam didn’t understand why that would be funny but he accepted the fact that some forms of humor were a lost cause to explain to him. “The double layering of the foamed neoprene would have protected you while I cleared the area. The material was developed for abrasion resistance. That and humans actually have dull teeth comparatively to other animals. I calculated the probability of severe injury or death as negligible.” 

Adam’s words doused cold water on the Nigel’s backdraft of rage till it was glittering embers again. The whiplash sensation of changing emotions so quickly left him feeling bone tired yet jittery. The suit had worked, and he was sitting in a reasonably safe place, bathed with a full belly and wearing clean clothing for the first time in too many months. Nigel realized he was about to kill a beautiful gift horse for finding one crooked tooth in its mouth.

“You’re shaking again. Are you ill? You haven’t been bitten. I checked in the shower.” Adam said, watching as Nigel leaned over to hold his head, his fingers curling into his still damp hair. 

“You are one cold bastard, you know that?” Nigel said far more calmly than he felt. Adrenalin was a brilliant thing but too much at once and at the wrong time was dangerous. It was taking everything in him not to react badly. 

“Hardly. I knew my father.” Adam said in such a confused manner, it prompted Nigel to finally look over at him. The lost look on Adam’s face made the last bit of Nigel’s anger evaporate like summer rain on heated asphalt. Whatever Adam was or whatever the hell Asperger’s did to rewire his brain, Adam was as innocent and good as human could be in this version of hell on Earth, and Nigel realized how fucking lucky he was to have met him. 

“Come here.” Nigel said, his words coming out as a whisper. Anyone else would have ran or done something stupid, but Adam, bless his odd little soul, actually did what Nigel asked, Standing up so that he could frame Adam’s face with his hands, Nigel made those wandering blue grey eyes meet his own. “Don’t you ever use me like that again. We are going to be a team from now on. Do you understand?”

Adam nodded the best he could, eyes going wide as he watched Nigel close his own and lean in for a kiss. It was brief, just a brush of lips against one another before Adam was let go, Nigel sitting back down to finish his water, savoring the taste of it like fine wine. 

“Why do you keep kissing me?” Adam asked, swallowing hard enough to make his throat click. Something important was happening, he could tell that much. He wanted to ask Nigel what was going on, but was unsure if he should. Reviewing their conversation, he had thought Nigel was angry with him about the suit and the lack of communication on his part about it, but then Nigel had kissed him. When there had been living people to watch, Adam had noted that was not the normal outcome of anger. 

“Adam, may I be honest with you?” Nigel said, leaning back against the counter to hold himself up. Fuck, he needed a bed and soon. 

“I would prefer it if you did. Lies complicate everything and I don’t like them.” Adam said, twisting his fingers together. He had no idea where this conversation was going. “I can see that you’re upset, but I don’t know why or what to do about it.”

“I should stay here. I want to live here with you in this house.” Nigel said, reaching to take Adam’s hands into his own to start playing with the man’s fingers. It seemed to calm Adam down for some reason. “I keep kissing you because you are gorgeous and I am a man who appreciates beauty in all its forms, and while I have never been with a man before, I think it is a certain thing that I will eventually want to fuck you, but we can take things slowly if you need to. Do you think you will be fine with all that?”

“Oh. Okay. There is plenty of room for you here and working together would increase our odds of surviving longer. ” Adam said, blinking in surprise as he absorbed all the information directly placed upon him. “And you want to have sex? With me?”

“Eventually, yes. I want you to want me as much as I do you though. Until then, I need your touch, the taste of you on my lips.” Nigel said, bringing Adam’s hands up to his lips to press them to open palms.

“Kissing?” Adam said, liking how Nigel’s mouth felt against his skin.

“Yes.” Nigel murmured, leaving off his adoration so that he could place Adam’s arms around his shoulders where he liked. He returned the favor, pressing his face into belly warmth as he reacquainted himself with the feel of Adam’s back and the curvature of his butt, molding his hands to the later.

“Holding?” Adam said, growing brave enough to leave off a shoulder to trail a hand through Nigel’s hair, watching how the strands glittered in the light. 

“Yes.” Nigel said though the answer was muffled. He was going to fall asleep here if they kept this up.

“But no sex until I say so?” Adam asked, unsure of the answer to that. He was no stranger to porn or being horny, but had never had the chance to explore sex one-on-one with another human being. Nigel wasn’t a woman, but this much he did know. Nigel was warm and alive and he felt good in Adam’s arms. They could figure out the details about it later. 

“Is that alright?”

“Yes.”

OoOoO

Meanwhile…elsewhere…just outside of Maryland…

Of course the safe house Hannibal wanted to go to was about 500 miles away and in another state with hundreds, if not thousands, of the walking dead between here and there. Just his fucking luck as always. Sighing, Will swerved wide, pedaling his mountain bike around the random walker stumbling down the interstate toward him, Hannibal following not too far behind him on his own bike. 

OoOoO

TBC?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Your kudos use up all the hot water. Your comments revel in the sin that is air conditioning.


	3. The stars are given; the constellations we make

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter features Will and Hannibal, and what the hell they are doing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any hannigram shipper worth their salt knows by now that 'mylimasis' means 'beloved' in Lithuanian by now. 
> 
> The title of the chapter is a part of a quote by Rebecca Solnit. Obviously, it's not mine.

Of course the safe house Hannibal wanted to go to was about 500 miles away and in another state with hundreds, if not thousands, of the walking dead between here and there. Just his fucking luck as always. Sighing, Will swerved wide, pedaling his mountain bike around the random walker stumbling down the interstate toward him, Hannibal following not too far behind him on his own bike. 

Looking back in time, Will watched as Hannibal rode by to neatly chop its head clean off from its shoulders with one blow. The former surgeon had liberated a battle axe of all things from god knows where, along with a plethora of other sharp implements. Will was sure some poor museum was missing an exhibit or two because of Hannibal. 

Watching Hannibal’s back while he shortened the handle of his weapon of choice to make it versatile, Will had been informed it was actually a pole-axe and not a halberd, the two weapons often confused for one another. The main difference between the two was that the pole-axe was designed to go straight through plate armor while the halberd lacked the kinetic energy to do so. The six foot thick wooden haft was unnecessary though since they were not on horseback. Will ended up telling Hannibal to shut the fuck up and saw faster. It looked sharp as hell and cut through the dead like butter so it could be called ‘Susan’ for all that Will cared. 

In retrospect, the weapon was sort of fitting considering the state things were in and the fact no one was playing fair anymore, not even the dead. The former peacock and darling of the Baltimore elite social circles looked just as comfortable wielding that weapon covering in gore than he had making small talk during intermissions at the opera. At least here, Will didn’t have to wear a damn tux and pretend to stay awake. 

Though he had been offered his choice of weapon from their armory and gotten a history lesson about each and every one of them, Will stuck with his firearms, though he went low tech as well with them. A modified hunting sling shot was strapped to his arm and another with a tempered steel frame to his leg, their range of fire well over 100 feet. Light weight and silent, the slingshots could be reloaded with rocks or anything else readily available when he ran out of his preferred ammo, glass marbles. Best case scenarios, Will focused on taking out walkers from long distances while Hannibal took care of anything close range with his axe and throwing knives. Worst case scenarios, Will unstrapped the bastard sword at his side and waded in beside Hannibal, the two fighting in tandem with one another like they were always meant to. Will often reflected it was a shame the world had to end for him to realize that. 

The apocalypse had happened few months after Hannibal had turned himself in and was committed for life to the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, his lawyer either making a deal with devil himself or people were really just that stupid. When the outbreak was confirmed to be real and the shit began to hit the fan, Will came out of hiding from the depths of Wolf Trap, driving fast and furious to Baltimore while he still could to break Hannibal out. It took the dead coming back to life to make Will reassess all his life choices in rapid succession, including being in love with a cannibalistic serial killer. He took it from a sign from some higher power that there were worse things in the world. 

The rescue turned out to be unnecessary, Hannibal meeting Will on the upper levels in a break room, both of them disguised as staff. Will had avoided getting mistakenly eviscerated…again…because Hannibal had recognized his scent in a hallway and followed it, absolutely charmed that Will had come in person to break him out. He fell in love with Will all over again when he killed three guards without hesitation and traded gunfire with Jack in the parking lot as they made their escape. They had been on the run ever since, anyone official too busy with the new virus business to go after a pair of psychopaths in love. 

After things had settled down in a sense and the new norm had established itself, they had started heading north when Will would have preferred to go south, but Hannibal had insisted on it, claiming he had the perfect safe house in some rural part of New York. If everything Hannibal said about it was true, there were only a few small towns near it, all with low populations, plenty of surrounding woodland for them to forage off of, and the ultimate selling point, the house was completely off the grid and completely self-sufficient with its own wells for water, and solar and hydro powered for the electrical. It seemed too good to be true, Will saying as much as they pedaled mile after mile, around ruined cars and too many walkers to count. 

The bikes had also been Hannibal’s idea as well, and as much as Will grumbled, it had turned out to be a good one. Noise attracted the walkers, causing the damn things to flock to its source. Even a bike with a muffler on it attracted too much unwanted attention, and eventually need fuel, making the stranded a target. In comparison, the bikes were whisper quiet, most of the undead not even noticing Will and Hannibal until them were long past them. They kept spare tires and chains in their backpacks and enough tools on their persons so Will could fix the bikes if something were to happen. So far, their luck had held out with no noteworthy instances other than the usual hack and slash, and scavenging for necessities. They made it a habit to avoid the living as much as the dead, witnessing too much from the shadows and other places of hiding. Neither men had the patience of the drama, petty betrayal, and stupid ass mistakes made by other survivors to become involved with them. 

“What troubles you? I can hear you sighing.” Hannibal asked, pedaling closer to Will so he could keep his voice low. There weren’t a lot of walkers on the road for some reason, more often than not the dead in the surrounding woods by the asphalt or stuck in their cars, being too stupid to get out. 

“Oh, I don’t know. Could be from the dead eating the living, the fall of society, or us pedaling to upstate New York and still being a few hundred miles from our destination. We need to get there before winter or we will be truly fucked, my fine friend. Take your pick.” Will griped, but it was an old argument between them, worn and velvet soft to the touch by now like fine leather. 

“You are being overly dramatic…” Hannibal pointed out. Will hoped he hit a pothole made from the irony. When that didn’t happen, he took matters into his own hands and chose to be rude, interrupting Hannibal instead.

“Hey kettle, the pot says you’re one to talk.” Will chided because he could now, and damn, it felt good. 

“The earth has taken back its own by culling the herd, you hated society anyway and its downfall was inevitable, and I promise you this will all be worth it when we arrive and you can take a long, hot shower after a soak in a whirlpool bath.” Hannibal said patiently, pausing to cut down another walker standing to close to the road. “If things keep going along at this pace with no distractions or hindrances, we should arrive at our destination in a little over a week, with three months well ahead of winter.” 

Thankfully, the dead were slow. They only became problematic in large numbers, even more so in small areas. Hannibal and Will stuck to the open road and spaces because of this, going to great lengths to go around towns and cities rather than through them, gathering their supplies when they could from lonely rest stops and wayward gas stations. It added time to their trip, but from what they had witnessed from distances or from hiding alike, it was time and effort well spent. 

The pacing was slow but it had to be. This was a brave new world filled with brave new monsters, and not all of them were human anymore. The herds were the new stuff of nightmares. Thousands upon thousands of undead passing through areas in waves, some in such great numbers it took a day for most of the walkers to pass. Abandoning the bikes in a ditch, Hannibal and Will had hidden the better part of a Sunday up in a water tower, climbing up the structure just in time and descending later on under the cover of night. They were now in the habit of checking the horizon with a pair of military grade binoculars stolen off a decorated corpse from the tallest tree or structure they could find twice a day.

“You’re making me pancakes too. Not crepes or any other fancy shit. Honest to goodness, salt of the earth pancakes.” Will said, slowing down to match Hannibal’s speed as the man came to a stop. They were starting to lose the light and this was as good an area any. The road was raised with the tree line far enough back to give them so space to work with. A newer style vehicle sat off to the side of the road, thankfully empty of its former owners, either out of gas or broken beyond repair. 

The pair weren’t interested in the car though or its capabilities. They were interested in its trunk, and sealing themselves inside it for the night. Newer model vehicles had a button or lever on the inside of the trunk so if someone was stashed in it, they could open it from the inside. Failing that, Will knew a few tricks. They needed the rest of the light to safely stake out the area and kill any walker within that area before hiding the bikes and turning in for the night without living or dead eyes to see them do so. So far their method had worked. Will was not looking forward to the day they woke up and it didn’t. It was either that or take shifts, one of them staying awake while the other slept. Both methods held risks, but Will knew theirs was stupider choice of the two, but he liked being able to fall asleep with Hannibal wrapped around him. 

“Very well.” Hannibal promised, taking out his binoculars to scan their current surroundings. The pair dismounted, propping up their bikes beside the car for now. They would hide them later. Only the living felt the need to steal. “I don’t suppose you want to take care of those stragglers by the tree line.”

“I’ve been keeping an eye on them since we passed them. Watch my back and the road.” Will said, getting out his heavy duty slingshot and a handful of marbles. Before he could take aim though, his face was turned so that Hannibal could gift Will with a kiss. There would be many more between them later on, in the dark of the trunk and then the even deeper dark of the night. When Will needed to know that Hannibal was right there with him and alive so he didn’t go crazy in the limited space with death waiting practically right outside their door. Lips brushing his cheek, Hannibal trailed them to Will’s ear so that he could whisper a secret only meant for him hear.

“Always, mylimasis.” 

OoOoO

TBC?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Your kudos moon zombies in the dark. Your comments hide from the herd.


	4. You aren't just a star to me. You are my whole damn sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More zombie Spacedog AU goodness. Nigel and Adam settle in with one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nigel is so fucked up and seven violent shades of crazy paint. Sorry, but it's true. He also quite obviously suffering from some serious PTSD. Enjoy.
> 
> The title is a twist on "You weren't just a star to me. You were my whole damn sky." which are lyrics from 'Looking at the sky' by Huey Mack. I obviously don't own them or anything else.

AN- hey, I rushed to put this up before work so it’s not perfect. Please don’t be a grammar nazi or a dick about it. I’ll fix it later.

Also, very minor dub con at the end of the chapter....kinda but not really... Nigel doesn't ask but Adam doesn't stop him or mind....whatever, here's your warning

OoOoO

Every day he woke up was like being in a dream for Nigel. After months of sleeping anywhere he could in short uncomfortable bursts of panic, Nigel now slept in a California king sized bed soft as Heaven’s clouds with a man who had the face and ass of an angel. He drank hot coffee every morning and ate cereal with cold milk. Yeah, it was canned milk but Nigel couldn’t remember what fresh milk tasted like anyway so he didn’t really give a shit. If he really wanted to eat something else, the house’s many pantries and cupboards were fully stocked with a wide variety of ingredient though Adam hadn’t touch most of it. He had a rather select diet for some reason, sticking to it the best he could even now. Nigel had eaten more bran and mac&cheese in the last week than he had in his entire life. Failing that, Adam had an entire room filled from ceiling to floor with canned and dried food, and apparently, a rather large garden out back. Nigel was not too proud to admit that he had made obscene sounds while eating a humble tomato and more than just a few in one sitting.

There was a wine room too, one any master sommelier would happily give away his own mother to own. Looking at the bottles, even Nigel knew enough about wine to see it was premium shit. There were decade old, dusty bottles of Bordeaux and properly chilled bottles of expensive Champagne from France, a large variety of dark lush reds from Italy and Spain, and a lot more New World wines in the mix than Nigel thought there would be. Probably because they were trendy and god forbid, the third course of whoever the fuck the pretentious bastard was serving up be not in vogue. Kegs of beer were kept here too, the barrels in small batches and lacking any corporate logo, meaning they were homemade brews. Nigel made a mental note to keep an eye on Adam and make sure he didn’t try to drink any of it. 

Liquor had its own designated areas as well with not a drop of cheap rotgut to be found in the fully stocked bars. Even the cordials were top shelf, something not often seen much less bought in such wide variety or amount. Nigel was pleased to note that all the vodka was French or Finnish, not one Russian brand in the mix. The scotch and whiskeys available were all old enough to legally drink themselves, and were Nigel’s preferred pick of poison. As tempting as it was to drink himself blind and stay that way for a very long while, Nigel didn’t dare do more than experience the bottles through his eyes, ignoring the room from that point on after he had a look around.

 

The house’s interior was always cool and crisp, the air conditioning and heating keeping the house a balmy yet steady 65 degrees Fahrenheit, because Adam preferred to wear layers though it always felt too cold to him. Because he could, Nigel showered twice a day, scrubbing his skin until it was shiny and pink from the glorious heat, and wore clean, sweet smelling clothes that were warm and soft from being laundered on a regular basis. Nigel didn’t know what the fuck he had done to deserve this, but he owed what was left of his soul to someone. He just hoped they wouldn’t show up anytime soon to collect it. 

Living the dream now, Adam and this place were fucking surreal to experience after being on the run and lost for so long. Nigel kept expecting to wake up in some forsaken hole of a drug den with a needle in his arm, or finally figure out that he was actually dying. That this was all a flash in a pan, that he was high as fuck on some pill or powder, or finally losing the last bit of life as his brain shut down from lack of blood and oxygen. If the latter were true, he didn’t want to think about that next part. He knew what happened when someone died whether they were bitten or not. From what he had gathered out in the real world, not everyone did. A bite hastened the process in leaps and bounds, but they were all infected with the virus, every last one of them.

Nigel had stumbled across this gem accidently-on-purpose. Before the world ended, Nigel had been a very bad man who took what he wanted, killing or removing anyone in his way to get it. After the world ended, Nigel tried to do the exact same thing, but his careless violence had almost literally bitten him in the ass, his former victims picking themselves off of the ground to come after him. Fresh dead was a hell of a lot harder to kill a second time and escape than their more putrid brethren. All those muscles were still fresh from being alive just moments ago, moving the hungry corpse forward faster and stronger. If Nigel hadn’t been wearing leather at the time, he would have become one of them soon after. Adam had been right in his assessment that humans had dull teeth, something Nigel was very grateful for. He had come away from that learning experience with bruises and a terrible knowledge that they were all fucked in the end.

The house was as safe as it could be in this new day and age, Adam doing wonderfully simple things that worked. The sand filled water bottles that filled every window and were cemented into place on either side of the glass turned out to be a form of soundproofing, along with all the grey foam on the walls. Nigel had also been informed that they would help keep the house cool in the summer and warm in the winter, putting less demand on the solar panels if the hydropower from the watermill was effected by drought or freezing. As an added bonus, they also made the windows bulletproof, the rendered useless glass sandwiched between impact absorbing sand. Nigel wasn’t sure about the import of that last part until Adam told him in that monotone voice of his that it would be useful if someone living tried to break in. After that Nigel quit questioning Adam’s reasoning for doing things, listening intently to the odd but ingenious man. 

The world had become Adam’s workshop, everything in it now a tool to be used. With no limitations due to money or anyone around to tell Adam not to do otherwise, the electrical engineer applied his craft in any direction he chose. The internet was gone but there were bookstores everywhere, ignored and left mostly untouched by panicking people who were more focused on hoarding food and water than the written word. What Adam didn’t know, he learned, reading anything that might help him survive longer. Information central that was formally a living room with its walls full of top-of-the-line, lightweight flat screen TVs was proof enough of that, Adam studying up on home security, camera angles, and raiding quite a few Radioshacks and Best Buys for what he needed. 

Nigel didn’t like to look at the monitors, often keeping his head down whenever he passed by them. Every morning and again in the evening, Adam made it a point to check in on the situation going on outside and keep a log, noting if it were the same dead or new looking ones circulating in the area. He had some ongoing theory of migration about the walkers, mentioning something offhand in that way of his about a herd of them on the move. Though he knew he should ask about that, a moving herd of anything that wasn’t cattle never good, Nigel couldn’t bring himself to, not wanting to envision that sort of thing or admit it was real. It was bad enough it existed. Adam didn’t seem too concerned about it, but then he never did about anything really. Nigel didn’t know if that was a good thing, a bad thing, or an Asperger’s thing. 

Though the entire house was wired, Nigel made it his own habit to still check each and every room, including the closets, while Adam took his morning shower. Little genius that he was, Adam had informed Nigel that he had a computer program of his own creation in place, that if there was an intruder of the undead kind, the monitors would go red and pull up the room it was in while warning lights went off in all the other rooms. All anyone alive had to do when red lights started to flash was glance at a screen, one usually mounted on the wall in every room in plain view, and know immediately where the threat was coming from. 

The perimeter of the house bothered Nigel the most, the dead getting caught on the black cast-iron fence every so often, the damn thing more decorative than useful. It kept the dead out well enough, but the living would be able to climb right over it with little issue. Nigel didn’t like the walkers standing there on their borders, staring sightlessly at the house. He hated it especially when Adam aired out the house for health purposes via the roof’s entrance once a week. At one point, the three story readapted farmhouse had had a lovely spacious porch complete with herb and edible flower garden on the second story so that one could lounge in the great outdoors and appreciate the woodland view without being bothered by pesky nature. 

During his stay here, Adam had raided an entire section of several hunting stores, putting up outdoor canopies tented with camouflage tarp that stationary hunters liked to use so deer wouldn’t notice them. Anyone alive would cringe at the unusual eyesore, Adam doing a through but not aesthetically pleasing job of securing it, but to the dead, anyone outside on the porch was invisible from behind tarps of mossy oak, breakup, and shadow grass blades. The living could peek out but the dead could not look in. Adam liked to go out there to look at the stars and peer through space via multiple telescopes he had out there, filling up whole notebooks with his observations. Apparently one of the bonuses about the apocalypse was that all the light pollution from the cities was gone and one could look up at the night sky they were truly meant to see. Nigel didn’t give a flying fuck, keeping quiet and low to the ground by the door while Adam was out there, usually with his hands over his ears. As oppressive as the sound absorbing interior of the house could be at time, it was better than being outside and hearing the dead milling about, clicking their teeth from time to time. The wetter ones squelched when they moved while the older one creaked, drying out tissue snapping as bones grounded together. Nigel didn’t know which noise were worse, or how Adam could stand out being out there and hear it over the wind. 

The flickering monitors were also a constant reminder that Adam hadn’t felt the need to clear the immediate areas around the house or the small towns near them because of his methods. He found it easier to just take it slow and easy, moving around the dead like some strange ghost in his spaceman suit, taking what he needed and leaving in peace. The dead didn’t follow him like they would another human being because they didn’t register that he was there at all. To their rotted out senses as far as they were concerned, he was just another skinbag wandering around and knocking into shit, looking for something to eat. If Adam felt that there were too many undead in one area to navigate through safely, he simply set up a kitchen timer somewhere he wanted them to be and let the damn thing go off. The undead would flock to it and stay there until the timer ran out of batteries or it got broken. Adam would simply wait for them to clear out and then go about his business. He only used the guns with their potato silencers or his trusty sledgehammer on the undead if he had to reach into a small space they occupied like a car or cubicle for something he needed. His survival based around it, Adam wouldn’t risk the integrity of his suit.

Coexisting with the dead didn’t sit well with Nigel, but Adam had left New York City of all places, one of the most densely populated places in the world and made it out alive in one piece to come here and set up shop. As much as Nigel didn’t like his methods, he was smart enough to recognize that they worked and they worked for a reason. Instead of his Asperger’s being a hindrance in this new kind of norm, it was Adam’s saving grace, logical thinking and patient observation winning out over sentimentality or emotionally rash decision making. He didn’t have to like it but Nigel could respect it and even better, reap the benefits from it and appreciate how lucky he was to do so.

Now that he had breathing room and a moment to stand still, Nigel acknowledged how fucked up he was now, way more than before. When he had been king of his own self-made kingdom, people lived and dead by his whim and words alone. He had been a violent and cruelly selfish tyrant with a terrible intelligence and education that kept him out of jail and three steps ahead of any sort of law enforcement, local and international. He had been untouchable, invincible even. 

And then the dead got up off the ground where Nigel had put them and came after him with a vengeance. He’d had to rely on other people from time to time. He’d even tried to do the group thing but that shit didn’t work when everyone was dumber than you and clinging to the old way of things. Almost all the old leverages didn’t matter or work anymore. Hell, they used money as toilet paper now for all it was worth. No one wanted recreational drugs, couldn’t risk getting fucked up or careless. The ones that did, died quick and messy. Pot could make you too loopy and slow, cocaine could make you quicker but more careless and hellishly paranoid, and anything hallucinogenic was like committing suicide in technicolor. Cigarettes were his only vice cause they were still everywhere with most of their consumer base too dead to care anymore about nicotine, but Nigel had gone cold turkey with everything else, going through withdrawal on top of trying to stay alive long enough to be miserable through it. 

The only thing people were interested in was painkillers and anything first-aid, and Nigel hadn’t dealt in pharmaceuticals, for more than one reason. During his room checks, Nigel had found more of enough of them here in this house, though that didn’t come as much of a surprise considering who it had belonged to. Nigel was sure they could run a half way decent hospital based on all the equipment at hand and the amount of medical supplies and kits he had found in various hiding place throughout the house. He had yet to find the kill room, knowing deep down that there was one somewhere hidden in the house. Old habits died hard, especially ones developed in formative years. Adults tended to use the same hiding places they did as children. They just got better about the locations and the methods of subterfuge. 

Nigel didn’t want to think about his brother, though it was hard as hell not to with reminders staring back at him everywhere, from the style of the furniture to the designs on the flatware. Thinking about family made him dream about his baby sister, like his nightmares weren’t bad enough now. Reliving a bitter cold that never truly left him was evil enough, but remembering the effort he’d made to vomit after finding tiny milk teeth in his soup bowl and his starving body unwilling to give up that tainted nourishment was what truly took his breath away with keen pain every time. Those nights he curled himself around Adam, usually waking the poor man up with his cursing or to his shame, begging.

There were times he would scream but at least he didn’t cry…

...like his twin did when he dreamed about Mischa.  
OoOoO

Living with Nigel turned out to easier than Adam expected or worried himself about, the man not trying to change anything about his routines. He didn’t even comment on the little things Adam needed to do to keep himself happy and sane, like watching his show while eating or doing his self-assigned chores in a certain order on their designated days. Nigel went to sleep when Adam did, woke up with him, and ate whenever he did as well. He followed Adam around but made no attempt to interrupt or interfere with his work, seeming happy enough to just sit near him and watch Adam while he worked on new projects like weapon design or outlined ideas for future projects he had in mind now that he had another able body to help him. He even let Adam talk for great lengths of time, only nodding from time to time or prompting him to continue whenever Adam stopped for air or remembered to apologize for rambling on. Adam hadn’t realized how much he had missed speaking to another human being until Nigel showed up, even though most of the conversations were one sided. After their talk that first day about being a team and discussing living arrangements, Nigel had spoken little since then, seeming happier to let Adam talk himself out about whatever was on his mind. 

The only thing that bothered Adam about Nigel was that man liked to touch him constantly, but it was something Adam found himself getting used to and even starting to like now that it was an every day thing. Following Adam around wherever he went in the house, Adam could count on Nigel holding onto the back of his shirt or sleeve and trailing after him, much like a tiger following a house cat. He even sat outside the bathroom for him, picking up where he left off when Adam was done. They slept together now as well, which had been disconcerting at first. 

Not bothering to ask permission as he climbed into Adam’s bed uninvited since that very first night, Nigel preferred to lay his head in his lap rather than use a pillow, bodily curled around Adam while he read before going to sleep. He also had nightmares, loud ones but not all of them involving the undead as far as Adam could tell, Nigel often speaking in another language in his sleep to people who weren’t there. Nigel never wanted to talk about them with Adam afterward, the few times Adam had reminded himself to be polite and ask how he was doing. He would just hold onto Adam too tight until he would have to wiggle out of the man’s hold so that he could breathe and not bruise. 

Unsure of what to do, Adam would usually sit up then and read aloud to Nigel because that is what his own father had done when Adam was young and prone to nightmares after his mother had died at the tender age of eight. Nigel didn’t seem to care what he read as long as he did so aloud and was allowed to put his head back in Adam’s lap and burrow into his body heat the best a fully grown, muscular man with long limbs could. 

Then there were those nights that reading didn’t help Nigel at all and he would take the book from Adam to throw over his shoulder, much to Adam’s ire. Instead, he would pull Adam’s pants down and take him into his mouth, whether Adam was hard or not. Also disconcerting, but Adam would soon lose himself to the heat and suction, and if he wasn’t hard to begin with, Nigel fixed that with his tongue. Though he didn’t like being woken up, Adam was beginning to like those nights best, Nigel not wanting him to do anything but lay there while he sucked him off, his strong hands keeping Adam’s shaking hips in place. 

Feeling overloaded but in a good way as he curled his body over the source, Adam especially liked the feel of Nigel’s hair between his fingers, the silvering locks softer than they looked and fragrant from all of Nigel’s bathing. He really liked the sensation of his tip scraping the back of Nigel’s throat, and the way the slick passage would constrict and spasm around his shaft, Nigel practically choking himself like he was desperate to make him come. Inexperienced and overwhelmed, Adam never lasted long, intently watching normally thin lips become puffy from sudden overuse and friction as they created a wet seal at the base of his cock. After swallowing his load down, Nigel would lick him clean, with slow laps until Adam was oversensitive and squirming beneath Nigel, desperately tugging at his hair to stop. 

On nightmare nights, Adam knew Nigel would do the same thing to him in the morning as soon as he woke up, milking his cock empty again with renewed vigor and upsetting Adam’s schedule by making him late for everything he had planned out that day. He was learning to work around it though, Adam finding out that he liked this sort of intimacy and was proud of himself for learning to be flexible in the face of such sudden change. 

They would go to sleep for a time soon after these events, both sated but in very different ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Your kudos obsessively watch the TVs and take endless notes. Your comments stargaze to the sounds of the dead.


	5. You are made out of comets and stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a hannigram chapter with Walking Dead characters.   
> Some dialogue taken from the show.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "You are made out of comets and stars. Do not surround yourself with those that treat you like dirt and dust." - Noor Shirazie

“I do not understand why you find this so amusing.”

Grinning at the pout that now graced Hannibal’s face and being the one to put it there, Will couldn’t keep the shit eating grin off of his own that was the cause of this discussion. The pair had just woken up and were going through their daily morning routine. After easing the trunk they had spent the night in open to find no walkers in their near vicinity, each man took their turns getting ready for their day of travel while the other watched their backside. 

Dignity and pride took a backseat during this trip due to close quarters and keeping each other in line of sight. Considering that both of them had been incarcerated and committing at some point, defecating in front of one another really wasn’t that off putting. Once you’d done it a couple hundred times under lock and key, recorded on camera surveillance, and in front of strangers in and out of uniform, there really was nothing left to be embarrassed about. That being said, Will was looking forward to not shitting in a hole bare assed to the elements anymore if everything Hannibal claimed about their destination was true. 

Breakfast was bottled water and protein bars, a 5 hour energy shot, 7/11 brand multivitamins, and a Snickers though Hannibal grimaced through all of it, especially the last part. Even he conceded though that they needed the calories from the mass produced candy, seven hours of pedaling a day alone keeping the pair slim and trim. As far as Will was concerned, if he had to replace his morning coffee with a damn energy shot, then no one else was allowed to be happy either. They had to travel light, raiding rest stop gas stations along the way for their supplies. 7/11’s were their preferred port in the storm since most of them carried the exact same thing no matter where they were and kept extra stock in their coolers. 

After breakfast, personal maintenance was attended to, their bodies quickly cleaned off with antibacterial wet wipes with special attention to problem areas such as groins, arm pits, and other bodily creases where bacteria could accumulate. Today was not their version of laundry day though, Hannibal and Will flipping their inner layer of t-shirts inside out before putting them back on and covering them up with a flannel outer shell. There was more than enough of everything just laying around, especially on the interstates and roads they traveled on. Abandoned cars were loaded with things packed in a panic, suitcases full of clothing being one of them. Since carrying around spare clothing would only weigh them down, Hannibal and Will wore only the essentials under their weather proof hooded jackets and steel toed hiking boots. They only wore a set of layered clothing for about week before discarding the pants and shirts for a new set. What little they carried with them in their backpacks and bicycle’s limited storage space on a regular basis were value packs of new underwear and socks found just about anywhere, even in dollar stores much to Hannibal’s distaste.

The source of Will’s good humor and Hannibal’s ire was the good doctor’s now prominent beard. Though they kept their hair groomed and their facial hair clipped back with scissors, Hannibal’s beard came in thicker than Will’s own. It was also very distinctive, iron grey in color at its roots that lightened to silver at its tips with two very noticeable streaks of pure white on either side of his chin. If that wasn’t funny enough, Hannibal’s hair had grown out far enough to reveal a secret he had been hiding in plain sight.

“I know you are narcissistic but I never realized just how vain you actually were.” Will snickered, side eyeing the inches of head’s new growth that matched Hannibal’s beard but not the rest of his hair.

“There is nothing wrong with taking pride in one’s appearance or up keeping it to the best of their abilities.” Hannibal said primly, though he was clearly annoyed. Will loved how more pronounced his accent became around certain words and less so on others when this happened. 

“You dyed your hair.” Will snickered. “I hope you remember your shade’s number because I don’t think you’ll able to get it professionally done anytime soon. You might have to end up using a box brand.”

“A lot of men color their hair.” Hannibal grumbled, glaring at a multicolored stray lock as it fell into his face. The lack of reapplication had made the dark blonde coloring fade out to a hazy gold so that it mixed in with the other shades of silver and pewter, his hair further lightened by the sun. At this point, not even under pain of death would Will ever admit it aloud, but it actually looked quite stunning on Hannibal. The metallic contrast made his already strange maroon eyes stand out all the more in his angular face. 

“So were you ‘soft auburn’ or more of a ‘radiant caramel crème’ kind of guy?” Will said, enjoying this way more than he should but it wasn’t often he got an opportunity like this. The face Hannibal was making at him was worth every thought of revenge brewing up in Hannibal’s head. It wouldn’t be the ‘send a killer after you’ kind of revenge. More on the level of Will wouldn’t be surprised if he woke up after being drugged to find all of his body hair shaved off kind of revenge. He could deal with some missing pubes for witnessing the prim, put out look on Hannibal’s face. 

“Now you are just being ridiculous. One of those isn’t even a...” Hannibal trailed off as a shift in the wind made him pause midsentence. It made Will go on high alert in an instant. 

“What is it?” Will asked, scanning the immediate area to find nothing going on at the moment. 

“Get your binoculars out. I smell exhaust.” Hannibal said. Will did as he was told, not doubting Hannibal’s frighteningly accurate sense of smell for a second. It was that acute sense that had saved their lives before, his nose waking Hannibal up from a dead sleep when he became overwhelmed with the reek coming off the herd carried in on the wind and seeped in through the cracks in the car’s trunk. He had spent that fateful Sunday up in the water tower with his nose buried in Will’s armpits or groin, preferring an overabundance of pheromones and body odor over the moving decay below them to keep from gagging.

Climbing on the closest car to get some height, Will cursed when the lenses focused in on a mixture of vehicles heading straight their way. He cussed out loud when he saw someone else with their own pair of binoculars looking right back at him. They had been seen and the tree line was too far back for them to hide in and make an escape in time on foot. They couldn’t risk losing the bikes either. Though they were in the great state of New York now and so close to their journey’s end, it was still much too dangerous to be walking the rest of the way. 

“We’ve been seen. Looks like a group driving an RV, a truck, a van, and couple of cars.” Will sighed, handing over the binoculars to Hannibal as he climbed up to take his own look at the potential threat and definite hindrance, having only so many hours of daylight. They preferred to deal with the dead for a reason. They didn’t have a lot to steal, but that never stopped other people from trying before and making themselves a nuisance. “How do you want to play this?”

“They have children, women, and the elderly with them. There is a mixture of ethnicities as well.” Hannibal informed him, telling Will a lot in very few words as he focused on the drivers of the vehicles and their passengers. Groups of people with one theme going on usually meant violence and immediate trouble.

“So not pirates but pilgrims. Still could go either way, especially if they are the religious variety.” Will said softly, chewing his bottom lip in thought. He stopped when Hannibal tutted at him about it, his lover liking soft and silky to kiss, not chapped and rough.

“I don’t see an overabundance of religious icons or doctrine left out on the dashboards. No biblical text smeared on the sides of their vehicles in paint, blood, or fecal matter either.” Hannibal said thoughtfully, going suddenly still in a way that would frighten other people as he considered their options. 

“Now isn’t that a damn shame. It’s been a while since we’ve had any fun.” Will said in a dry tone remembering the last group of twisted devout they had come across. By the time Hannibal was done with them, the zealots believed that he was the new god’s prophet, giving themselves over to the walkers as their new brethren with open arms after carving off pieces of themselves in tithe to Hannibal. They had eaten well that night. Fresh meat was in such rare supply, and it had been a long time since they’d had a date night with dinner and a show. 

“We shall play the part of the hopeless wanderers for now then.” Hannibal said, handing back the binoculars for Will to put away. They were unnecessary considering their company was arriving, the odd convoy with an RV that had seen better days slowing down. Will and Hannibal hopped off of the car to go stand by their mountain bicycles. Part of Will hoped that they would just drive past them and be on their way, but other parts of Will knew they wouldn’t for whatever reason. 

“The whimsical odd couple? The charming doctor with all his fancy words and education who wouldn’t hurt a fly traveling with his bumbling, salt of the earth mechanic sidekick? Mmmm…It could still be fun. I understand now why you liked to hide in plain sight, the challenge and art of keeping up appearances.” Will said softly, working on his mask to fit it into place. His facial features softened, an easy smile being set in his face alongside dull eyes that had seen too much and knew too little. Hannibal smiled back, his own person suit coming together again. 

Despite Will’s best wishes, all the vehicles came to a dead halt, all sorts of people slowly coming out of them, cautious and armed though nothing was being pointed directly at either of them yet. A tall man dressed in a beige suit of law enforcement of all things right down to the ridiculous hat came toward them, obviously the group’s leader. He was flanked by an armed dark haired man in plainclothes but who obviously had training as well. The way they moved in tandem together told Will that they had really been police instead of just survivors donning a costume and probably partners in the force to boot. 

“Mornin’.” Whose name plate on his sheriff’s uniform proclaimed him as Grimes. His accent was all Southern, from Georgia if Will was not mistaken. Hannibal heard it to, subtly changing his body language to let Will know that this was all his show now and responsible for style of the meet-and-greet, the bastard. He knew Will still didn’t care for being sociable.

“Mornin’, officer. Anythin we can help ya’ll with or you just passin through like us?” Will said, letting his own Louisianan accent come through, thick like it hadn’t been in decades. He wanted to put these people as ease as quickly as possible, playing into the ‘tribe’ aspect of human connection. Grimes wasn’t paying too much attention to Will though, much to his dismay. His direct blue eyed focus was all on Hannibal for some reason, making Will hope that their fame had not proceeded their proper introductions. The virus’s outbreak had usurped their place in the media, but not before their faces had been pasted everywhere on every news channel and website for a solid week as front page fodder, their wanted pictures and profiles sent to every branch of law enforcement in the nation.

“Depends. Where you two headin’?” Grimes asked. Will could tell he was killing time, trying to make a decision about something. That much was clear. He didn’t have his gun out though so Will was willing to bet that he didn’t want them dead, at least not yet. This was not a rash man, caution and concern etched into every nuance of his being. Being former law enforcement himself, Will could definitely work with that but if given half a chance, Hannibal could definitely ruin and run circles around that. All they had to do was find an in.

“North. And you?” Will kept his body language open and his tone light. At the moment, he was still just another good old boy from the bayou, humble as dirt and honest as the day was long. 

“You’re Hannibal Lecter.” Grimes said as he pointed to the man standing behind Will who was looking as harmless as possible despite all the weapons strapped to his side, cutting straight through their bullshit. “Which means you must be Will Graham.”

Yup, definitely law enforcement who had obviously paid attention to their bulletins for once, Will internally sighed, letting his fake face fall away as Grime’s partner raised his gun, his dark eyes going wide as he recognized the name. There was a murmur running through the group behind the men at the sound of it as well, enough people left alive remembering the news hype of catching ‘Hannibal the Cannibal, the Chesapeake Ripper’ and the terror of ‘Murder Husbands’ escape. Most days, Will was torn between hoping that Freddie Lounds was still alive and miserable, or dooming her the existence of a mindless walker. Either way, if they ever met again, he was going to have a lot of fun proving her right. 

“Put it down, Shane. It not like we can collect on the reward anyway or bring them to justice.” Grimes sighed, motioning to his former partner and friend to calm down. 

“Hard to be wanted men when the people doing the wanting are all dead.” Will said, wondering what Grimes’s end game was. He had brought up Hannibal’s name for a reason, and not just for a reaction. 

“It’s not like it’s our place anymore anyway.” Grimes sighed still obviously considering something weighty. “I do remember reading your profile though. It said you were a doctor. What kind were you?” 

“They don’t let crazy fuckers like him keep their license, not after what he did.” Shane snapped, giving away another piece. There was a lot of emotion there for Will to work with. Now that was interesting. There was a woman involved. 

“While that is very true, the medical knowledge and my decades of experience were not so easily taken away.” Hannibal said with a twinkle in his eye and his most charming smile on his lips. It took a lot of effort for Will to not let his eyes roll out of his head, exerting considerable restraint on his part to keep still and his face blank. “To answer your question, Deputy Grimes, I was an emergency room surgeon. It also so happens that I was considered one of best in my field until I chose to retire and heal minds instead of bodies. Since your inquiry is about my former profession, is it safe to presume that you need my assistance? How may I be of help? Is someone in your party injured?”

Somehow managing to keep a straight face through all that, Will studied the effect Hannibal’s words had on the men and the group in general. There was a reason Hannibal had only gotten caught by turning himself in. One of his greatest strengths was that he came off as so charming and so eloquent and so polite, it was completely disarming. After Hannibal spoke to you at length, you wanted to like him and you wanted him to like you back. He was like a snake charming its prey with the shine of his coils and the sway of his body, his hissing low and too soothing. The dance of it made his prey ignore his fangs and the venom that lay within them. 

“Oh man, you can’t be serious.” Shane griped, clearly not happy. 

“These are desperate times. Desperate measures and all that.” Will said softly as a woman stepped forward. The way she looked at Grimes said that she was his wife, the boy following closely behind her obviously their son. The way Shane kept glancing at her told Will that they had been intimate and he still had strong feelings for her. The look of devout love on Grime’s face for his family told Will that the sheriff knew nothing about that indiscretion. Hannibal’s hand brushing lightly against his own told Will that he had seen that all too and more. Knowing Hannibal like he did, Will was sure he was already working on three different plans or more at once, wanting Will to be ready to add his own part to them all. There was a reason Hannibal’s greatest wish in life had been for an equal. He wanted someone at his side who could not only keep up, but who was also capable of changing the game in new and interesting ways as well when it got boring. 

“Yeah, desperate time indeed. Isn’t that the rub of it?” Grimes sighed, taking Lori’s hands into his own. He hated himself for even considering this, wishing he hadn’t recognized the men on the side of the road from their FBI wanted posters. Sometimes his memory and gift for observation was a curse instead of a blessing. “She’s pregnant.”

And there it was. Like always, they were safe as long as they were useful. If Hannibal’s standing as a doctor didn’t do it, then Will’s mechanical skills were always highly valued. Someone always wanted something worked on or someone stitched up. It was just all about figured out which need they wanted more at the time. This was the day and age for it, of ferreting out what people needed most and using it against them. Hannibal and Will had decided long ago the only people they needed were each other. Everyone else was just fodder, fun, or food.

“You have my congratulations and my sympathy.” Hannibal said, sounding so devastatingly sincere with just the right amount of sorrowful put to it. It had the effect Hannibal wanted, the tone bringing tears to Lori’s eyes, the woman wiping them away in sudden embarrassment. She was no fool, knowing the reality of her condition and the dangers it presented not only to herself but the group as well.

“You can’t let someone like him touch her. He’s a freak who ate people.” Shane said, effected by it as well but the fight was going out of him. In the end, he wanted what was best for Lori too, that much was obvious. Will wondered if she knew who the real father was.

“We don’t got much of a choice, now do we? How many doctors you know, Shane?” Grimes snapped. The apocalypse was taking his toll on him, but in different ways than the rest. He wasn’t as resigned as the other survivors, like this was a fresher experience for him. Will saw him as a man trying to catch up. There was definitely a story there, the outline of it becoming more apparent with every word spoken and every expression so carelessly given away. Will was sure now that Grimes had been hidden away from the beginning of the end. The former sheriff wear his rigid morality like his heart, right out on his sleeve for all to see. Will decided that prison didn’t fit into that so it had to have been something medical. 

“If it is any consolation, I have abstained from that for quite some time now in light of the world’s current situation.” Hannibal said softly in a manner that could be mistaken for meek, Will biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. Liar, liar, pants on fire. “Madam, if you are comfortable with it, I will be more than happy to look you over and give you a prognosis. I can even write down some detailed medical advice for later, like what you will need at hand when you give birth.”

“Hell no, I don’t want you near me, but this isn’t about me. It’s about the baby.” Lori said as rigidly as she held her body away from Hannibal, her hands resting protectively over her slightly swollen belly.

“Then I will endeavor to be as quick and through as possible to keep your discomfort to a minimal.” Hannibal promised with a slight bow, tilting his head so Lori could see his soft smile and kind looking eyes. His impeccable bedside manner had not suffered from disuse, Lori already responding to it by relaxing her shoulders. 

“I don’t like this. You hurt her and I’ll…” Shane spat out, stepping forward to place himself between Lori and Hannibal. Gun still in hand, he came too close for Will’s liking who made his presence known again. 

“If I were you, I wouldn’t finish that sentence or entertain any particular thought on the matter further than you should. I promise you, Hannibal will be the least of your worries if you pursue it.” Will interrupted in a flat tone, dropping the remnants of his mask. It was so much easier for him this way now, staying true to himself like this. The real Will Graham made everyone take a step back and raise their weapons again in response. 

“Now everyone calm down!” Grimes yelled, putting himself in the middle of the fray. When he was satisfied no one was going to take a pot shot at either men, he turned back to stare down Will as if trying to compel him to behave. “That’s not necessary. We don’t kill the living.”

“Then control your people. You don’t want to find out what will happen if any harm comes to Hannibal.” Will warned, staring back to make Grimes look away first, the man breaking out into a sweat from playing chicken with a real killer.

“I can wager a guess.” Grimes said softly, making himself meet Will’s own blue eyed gaze again.

“And you would still be immensely underestimating the things I would do to you and yours. There will be a reckoning if this turns bloody.” Will promised, leaning into Hannibal’s touch as the man placed his hand to his back. He knew he was overdoing it, frightening these people but he didn’t tolerate people threatening Hannibal anymore. 

“Yeah, like you think you can all by yourself…” said young redneck whose name Will would find out later on was Daryl. Bristling with weapons, he shoved his way to the front to stop dead in his tracks when Will turned to look at him. Hannibal always appreciated good survival instincts in other people, rarer to have in abundance when one would presume. This young man had them in spades, his eyes going wide as the better predator assessed him and found him lacking. If Daryl had been a dog, he would have tucked his tail between his legs. 

“Now everyone stop! Just stop! This is pointless!” Grimes struggled to keep the peace. He needed Hannibal alive for Lori’s sake, and everyone knew it. “Look, we don’t want to kill you, and I’m gonna go out on a limb here and assume you don’t wanna kill us. There’s been enough damn killing. Lori needs help and he can help her so nobody is shooting anyone for any reason. Can we come to an arrangement on this?”

“That entirely depends on you.” Hannibal took over, moving to put Will behind him to calm everyone down. As much as he loved this beautiful , unpredictable butterfly at his side, this group had potential. To discard them now so hastily would be a waste. “Where are you and your people heading?”

“Albany. There’s a CDC center and an army base there. Keeping to 87 for most of it until we get to a city. Then we go around. Cities belong to the dead now” Grimes answered, wondering how sad the state of the world was now that a cannibal was the voice of reason and the answer to a problem. “Why?”

“In payment for my services which will extend to anyone in your group who needs or wants them, if you were to transport Will, myself, and our equipment safely and unharmed to Ravena, which is on the way to Albany, I would consider helping you.” Hannibal offered. Grimes narrowed his eyes in thought as he thought it over. 

“Why Ravena?” He asked finally, relieved that they didn’t want to come with them to Albany. 

“Our business is our own. I am more concerned about our safe passage with you than trading travel plans or survival tips.” Hannibal said, his soft tone finally turning sharper. “Take it or let us be on our way in peace. We are on bicycle. You can easily outdistance us in your vehicles and we have nothing of value to steal, especially when compared to your resources. We are no threat to you, and we have no interest in you other than making up what precious daylight you have made us waste debating this.”

The RV decided then and there to put in its two cents in on the matter, something loudly popping under the hood to make fine white vapor pour out from under it. 

“Well no one is going anywhere until I fix that radiator hose.” Will said as he reeled in the killer to let some of his accent fall back in place, the friendly mechanic coming back through again with ease. 

“Ah damn it, not again.” Dale snapped, the older man turning to glare at the difficult piece of machinery and the young Asian man standing beside it. “I thought you said you fixed that.”

“I said I thought it was fixed. This rig is ancient, as in prehistoric, compared to the cars I used in drag racing.” Glenn said defensively, fidgeting from standing still too long. “Getting the right part of it is going to be impossible.”

“It’s not your fault. These things happen.” Will soothed, patting the young man’s shoulder before asking the old man to pop the hood for him. Hannibal admired the smooth transition from predator to prey, Will making it look effortless. Just a moment ago, these people had been scared stiff of him, but now hackles were being smoothed back down by an easy smile and a kind voice offering help. “Lemme take a look. I know a trick or two.”

“I take it you’re pretty good with your hands then.” Dale snorted, making a decision for all of them so they weren’t here all damn day. He prayed to any god left listening that he was making the right one. A baby in their midst changed everything for them, trouble brewing up like the life was in Lori’s belly. 

“I’ve been fixing motors from the bayous of Louisiana to the boat yards of Lake Erie since I was boy, sir.” Will said as he appraised the sad state of the motor, in bad shape but not a lost cause. He could fix it easily enough, but he wasn’t about to tell them that as he puttered around for show. Will knew getting in good with the old man was important. 

“Don’t call me ‘sir’. Makes me feel old. Dale’s fine and that’s Glenn. Daryl’s the one with the crossbow, and I’ll introduce you all to the rest later after you fix that damn hose, hopefully for good.” Dale sighed, nodding back at Will’s counterpart. “Hell, better you than him.”

“Will’s talents aside, it would appear we both have something the other needs. I can provide my services as a doctor to your group during our short time with you, and you can provide us with swift transport and some much needed rest.” Hannibal resumed negotiations now that it seemed things were settling down in their favor. 

“Fair enough. Looks like we can all help each other out. Write down anything else we should know or might be helpful along the way for Lori and we’ll get you where you wanna go in one piece.” Grimes promised, offering his hand to seal to the deal. He was surprised for a moment when Hannibal took it in return with a firm shake. Part of him hadn’t expected Hannibal to feel normal for some reason.

“Yeah, just don’t take a bite out of anyone when they ain’t looking.” Daryl growled out, sounding like a dog whose ears were pulled back flat against its skull with its fangs bared in warning. “We know how to deal with your kind.”

“Damn it, Daryl! Shut the hell up!” Shane yelled while Grimes grimaced, getting a bad feeling he should be counting all his fingers and toes after making this deal. 

“Now is not the time.” Grimes sighed at the younger man, part of him knowing that Daryl was right, but they didn’t have much of a choice.

“You’ve met more infamous cannibalistic serial killers on this road?” Will said as he walked back over to stir a pot with Daryl, wiping engine grime off of his hand on a rag he had procured from somewhere like all mechanics could. He turned to sweetly smile at Hannibal. “And there I thought they broke the mold when they made you, babe.”

“No one made me. I made me.” Hannibal said and then the wind changed, fate fickle that way. “It would appear that we are about to have a lot of company.”

“How in the hell do you know that?” Grimes asked, not liking the sound of that or how both Hannibal and Will went from regular seeming people straight to cold blooded killers. It wasn’t anything drastic Grimes could put his finger on. It just sort of happened. It was something about the way they stood straighter or their eyes turned brighter, like a light had been flipped on inside of them. One that showed what was really staring out from behind their eyes, the windows of the soul. 

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, but I promise he’s never wrong.” Will answered Grimes softly, not really paying attention to the living anymore as his world narrowed in on Hannibal and what came next. “Are they breathing?”

“No, it appears to be just more of the usual. It’s not a herd so there is no real cause for concern.” Hannibal said lightly as a large pack of walkers slipped out of the surrounding woods from one side. It made the other people behind them start to scream in terror and go for their guns as a hundred or more dead stumbled over themselves to get to the fresh meat. 

“Oh dearie me.” Will laughed, taking his time to stretch as Hannibal did the same, his spine popping as he warmed up. “And here I thought traffic would be light.”

“What are you doing?! Everyone get back to the cars!” Grimes yelled, turning back in time to stare at Will and Hannibal. They blatantly ignored him, the pair too busy drawing out weapons that looked medieval instead of guns.

“But the RV!?” Dale gestured to the useless vehicle as Will brushed past him to climb on top of it. He was torn between wanting to protect the main bulk of their supplies, escaping, and watching Will who stood posed with a sling shot in hand, obviously taking aim like he was planning on making a stand here and now. That was ridiculous though with the number of walkers coming toward them, suicidal even. “What the hell do you think you are doing?!”

“Leave it! Get in the car with Lori!” Grimes yelled, ignoring Will to grab at Dale, ready to push him in through the open car door if need be so they could escape. The stunned look on his face though made Grimes pause. It was the sudden silence from everyone else that made him turn around.

“Holy shit.” Glenn breathed out the words, but there was no fear in them, only shock and awe. Everyone stared on to be caught up in the feeling themselves. Will Graham, former profiler and teacher for the FBI turned killer, stood on the roof of the RV as tall and proud as any archer, shooting down walker after walker in quick succession, at least 8 to 10 falling down in final death every minute or so. His shots covered Hannibal Lecter, former psychiatrist and professional killer, cutting down the dead like sheaves of wheat, battle-axe in one hand and an open blade in the other. He was the reaperman, death itself come to harvest the wayward souls trapped in their rotting flesh.

“Well, would you look at that.” Daryl said in disbelief even as his eyes showed him the truth. None of them were really able to look away, the sight of the victorious living conquering the dead never witnessed before by them. The proof that they could win spurred Daryl into motion, the young man letting out a battle cry of his own. He ran over to join Will on the RV’s roof, shooting arrow after arrow without missing a mark. When his quiver soon ran empty, Will handed off one of his slingshots with a heavy bag of marbles to him, confident that Daryl would figure it. With a leap, Will was off the RV, hitting the ground running toward Hannibal, his own swords in hand. He joined in the melee, placing his back to Hannibal’s own as the pair became a whirlwind of flashing steel. Rains of black blood and severed limbs painted the road’s embankment wet and stinking dark with their kills that fell all around them like sacrifices.

It was over before anyone could really make full sense of it. Grimes realized it couldn’t have taken more than twenty minutes. In less time it took to bake a damn cake, over a hundred walker now lay in twitching pieces all over the place. The two men who had done this feat strode back toward them with their heads held high in victory, looking like legends already in the making. 

“So do we have an agreement?” Hannibal asked though he already knew the answer. His past didn’t matter now to these people, all the great and terrible things he had done thrown into shadow from the light of this new age’s dawn. These people had needed to see a miracle. Hope was more valuable than bullets, food, or even water in this brave new world of monsters. He and Will were just the terrible wendigo gods to give it to them.

“Yeah, I think we’ll get along just fine.”

OoOoO

“So what do people taste like?” Carl finally asked after he and Glenn had spent the last hour or so staring at Hannibal as he filled out a notebook for Grimes about what could happen to Lori and what to do if it did. Will was trying to catch a nap in the RV’s grandma’s attic bed above them. Rolling his eyes, Dale kept his own attention on the road, the happy engine practically purring from all the work Will had done on it. 

“It depend on the cut of meat and how it is prepared. I had a preference for offal though.” Hannibal said in an offhand manner that was more appropriate for commenting on the latest theater production. 

“Offal? What’s that?” Carl asked, looking over at Glen to see him making a face.

“Organs. Things such as liver, kidneys, sweetbreads…” Hannibal continued, doing into gruesome detail both in conversation and writing. He glanced over to see confusion on young Carl’s face and open revulsion on Glenn’s own. “Sweetbreads are the thymus gland, or even rarely the pancreas.”

“Ew. I’ve had liver before. It was gross. Mom served it with onions.” Carl said, contributing what he could to the conversation to keep Hannibal talking. He wanted him and Will to stay, especially after seeing them take out all those walkers like that.

“That’s not surprising. Most people prepare liver wrong, ruining it. It is a delicate meat despite its robust nature. I prefer it with just a light sear to the meat, minimal seasoning, some fava beans, and a nice chianti.” Hannibal sighed, sounding sentimental while he made his company feel nauseous. Snorting amusement into the pillow, Will was sure the sadist had visions of past dinners dancing through his head. 

“Doesn’t eating people make you one of them?” Glenn asked finally to fill the void air Hannibal had left in his wake, no one else other than Will knowing how to respond to that casual admittance of consuming human flesh to carry on conversation or if they should.

“Hardly. The correct terminology is cannibal and I assure you, I was quite selective. Whatever those things are, they do not care who they consume or how.” Hannibal sniffed, mildly offended but letting it go. Glenn was being curious, not intentionally rude. “I have standards as well as excellent table manners.”

“You shouldn’t be talking to him, Carl. Your father won’t like it. Your mom either for that matter.” Dale said, seeing that Carl was about to launch into some more questions. After that last gem, Dale didn’t want to hear the answers to any of them. 

“He never lets me do anything.” Carl sulked, knowing that was true. He hadn’t exactly asked permission to be in the RV, using misdirection and miscommunication with his folks and Shane to be here. Something was going on with those three though Carl figured it had something to do with the baby.

“Come up here and sit beside me, and leave the doctor alone. He’s trying to help your mom.” Dale sighed, motioning Glenn out of the navigator’s seat to get a panicked look for the young man. While Carl was practically sitting on top of their strange company to maintain his attention, Glenn didn’t want to get any closer to Hannibal. 

“You should be a good boy and listen to him, to all of your elders. They have your best interests at heart.” Hannibal said, pausing to study Carl who studied him back with the naïve courage of children. “Not all monsters look as they should. Some hide in plain sight, disguised as men.” 

“No offense, but I’ll be glad when we get near enough to Ravena to let you boys off.” Dale muttered. “Will has been a godsend, doing miracles with this old heap but you….You give me the creeps, Doctor Lecter.”

“No offense taken, Mr. Horvath. That just means you have excellent survival instincts, an admirable trait.” Hannibal smiled, more to himself than anyone else. “I often appreciate the best in people, wishing I had more of them in me.”

The dead walked, God hid in his heaven, and Hannibal the Cannibal still made terrible puns. Smothering a laugh into the bedding, Will let the gentle sway of the RV rock him to sleep. As far as he was concerned, all was right with the world. 

OoOoO

TBC- more spacedogs next!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Your kudos take out walkers with a marble to the eye socket. Your comments collect their heads to make a fort.


	6. To be a star, you must shine your own light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another Spacedogs chapter. A day in the life of Adam, Nigel, and the walking dead. The spacedogs need to go shopping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "To be a star, you must shine your own light, follow your path, and don't worry about the darkness, for that is when the stars shine brightest." - Napoleon Hill
> 
> I don't own anything.

“…are you listening to me? Have I been talking for too long?”

Shaking himself, Nigel realized that he had been caught staring at Adam, preferring to zone out to the sound of the man’s voice instead of actually listening to it. In a workshop that had once been a rather nice garage if the Bentley there had anything to say about it, Adam was exploring and explaining the limitations of the suits to Nigel. He knew he should be paying attention, but Adam would start describing things in deep technical detail like down to the molecular structure type shit, making Nigel lose any interest. He’d mentally check out and admire how Adam’s eyes changed from blue grey to sea foam greenish based on what he wore that day and where he stood in the lighting, or how soft his skin was. Whether he didn’t realize it was rude or just didn’t care, Nigel often stared at Adam for long periods of time, all while touching some part of him as if reaffirming he were real. 

Even now, Nigel crowded Adam to rub their cheeks together in languid motions, like a giant jungle cat marking its mate. Taking only the weekends off for some reason, Adam preferred him to shave every morning so Nigel took advantage of feeling their mutual smoothness coming together, enjoying the whisper soft scraping sound of it. Nigel may have given up hard drugs for good, but he had a new addiction to fill their places in his life. Nothing brought his down and mellowed out like Adam reading to him at night. Nothing brought his up and flying high like feeling Adam move underneath him, or the taste of him coating Nigel’s mouth. Nothing kept him calm and as close to sane as he could get like Adam talking for hours on end about stars, theaters, or whatever else was on his mind. If Adam would allow it, Nigel would do nothing all day but curl himself around Adam and hold him there like their bed was an opium den and every breath Adam took a hit off of a pipe. 

There were days now that Nigel barely strung along enough words to be considered a sentence. He let Adam do all the talking for them, preferring to just exist beside the curious young man who had no idea anything was wrong with him. With no one else here to see, today he had let Adam fuck him. In his old life when street credit actually mattered, that would have been almost a death sentence if anyone found out. His self-made kingdom had fallen though and he was a beggar king without a throne anymore, so he didn’t have anything more to lose.

After finding some lube in the bathroom drawer by accident, Nigel had brought it to the bedroom that night as he made the thinking stop by putting his own fingers in himself. Adam had thankfully watched enough porn to understand what was going on, Nigel grateful that he hadn’t had to explain himself or really anything. He had just lowered himself onto his elbows and knees like he had seen so many other bitches do for him, and Adam had taken over. Whatever the hell Asperger’s was or how it made Adam different, it sure as hell didn’t effect his sex drive or his ability to fuck like a pro. 

“You said you’d wait for my permission.” Adam had said nervously at the time, his hands practically dancing at his sides.

“Only if I wanted to fuck you. Can’t rape the willing so let’s get down to business.” Nigel told him to no further argument, Adam accepting everything at face value as he watched wide eyed as Nigel got into positon for him. “Fuck me.”

Tentative at first, and Nigel was grateful for that having never done this before, Adam had taken it slow, easing his way into unfamiliar territory, both mentally and physically. Panting from overload and much to the older man’s surprise later on, Adam had held onto Nigel’s hips hard enough to bruise, like he was worried he was going to fly off of this ride. Nigel let him do what he wanted, setting the pace which had been too slow at first and then too fast by the end. Nigel had cried out when he felt Adam come without any warning, too deep so it was felt and definitely there inside of him. The sensation of it took his breath away as Adam pressed himself in to the root and kept himself there. It kept Nigel open with too much pressure on his prostate, making it sing on the knife’s edge of pleasure and pain. Rutting into the bed below, Nigel had come without Adam or himself touching his cock. Holding himself up the best he could with Adam putting his back and body weight into it, Nigel had been too busy being fucked into the mattress. He found out that Adam was a selfish lover because he didn’t know any better, too wrapped up in his own pleasure to reciprocate or even think about it. 

Learning the benefits of having a younger lover, Nigel was taken again twenty minutes later in the whirlpool bath. Letting himself be filled with cock and too hot water, Adam fucked him hard over the rim of it, hungry for it now that he had gotten a taste. Adam’s shy touch reaching for his shoulder from behind in permission was Nigel’s foreplay now, making it easy for Adam by not demanding face time. When all was said and done, Nigel had a sore ass on a near constant basis now but it was still better than feeling nothing at all. He’d let Adam fuck him every day and twice on Sundays if it kept him feeling this way, like heroin hitting his bloodstream, Nigel high on endorphins, skin on skin contact, and feeling wanted. He wanted to stay like this, high all the time to keep reality off his mind.

“This is vital information…” filtered through Nigel’s self-induced haze, the man struggling to make sense of what Adam was saying to him about liquid oxygen and the necessity of maintaining certain breathing patterns for long periods of time. He hadn’t caught any of it other than Adam thought it was important. 

“I’m hanging onto every word like gospel.” Nigel lied, Adam believing him even if he didn’t understand why Nigel was bringing up theology at a time like this. Try as he might, Adam couldn’t interpret Nigel’s current state of being. Anyone else would have already called Nigel out on his bullshit and given him hell for it. That was the worst and best thing about being with Adam. Nigel could be himself. It was just unfortunate the real him was a terrible and a terribly damaged human being, scarred inside and outside ugly by life and self-affliction alike. 

“Oh. Okay. Well then you will be wearing the prototype suit again now that I’ve made…” Adam nodded, about to launch into the next part of his plan for today to have Nigel jolt in surprise against him. Not understanding Nigel’s reaction, Adam wondered why Nigel’s eyes had gone wide and his lips thin. He looked upset but Adam didn’t know why. 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Nigel asked, not wanting to reason out what Adam was suggesting. Fuck, he had missed something important.

“Winter is approaching soon in a few months, and I would like subzero sleeping bags and other survival camping gear made for cold weather available to us as an option if the power were to fail. Also the fruits and vegetables in the garden will spoil soon if we don’t get the things we need to preserve them. We need mason jars, pectin, vinegar….” Adam said with a sigh. Nigel hadn’t been paying attention after all so Adam was going to have to repeat the entire to-do list for today. 

“We can’t go out there.” Nigel said with such conviction that it brought Adam up short in confused surprise. 

“Um…yes, we can.” Adam said after they had stared at each other for a long moment, two totally different kinds of thoughts running through their heads. 

“You know what I mean. Those things are out there.” Nigel swallowed hard enough to hear his own throat click. He felt as if something was beginning to creep behind his back and cling to it, weighing him down. 

“Yes. Yes they are, and they have been out there this entire time. If we take the necessary precautions when exiting the house and traveling into town, we should be done and back by this evening. It takes two hours and 39 minutes to walk to Corinth which is the closest town. They should have sufficient supplies for what we need. People leaving the town were not interested in mason jars or other means of pickling or preservation. We should leave now though. Light sources like flashlights attract walkers, making it hard to navigate around them.” Adam rambled on, obviously unperturbed by the idea. He acted like they were discussing traffic conditions. “Otherwise, we will have to walk to Glen Falls which is 13 miles away and around a six hour walk to get there.”

Nauseous enough to swallow back rising bile, Nigel heard every word this time, Adam talking about going to take a fucking stroll into town to go shopping of all things. It was a supply run, something that all survivors did whether they wanted to or not, but fuck it was going to be arduous with the death keeping pace with them, bumping into them. 

“You seem upset. Are you upset?” Nigel heard Adam ask over the white noise starting to build up in his ears. 

“No, I’m having the time of my life. Can’t you tell?” Nigel muttered, digging his fingernails into the palms of his hands so that he could focus. 

“No.” Adam said, making Nigel look over at him. Adam looked how he always looked. Uninterested in their topic of conversation and utterly calm as he stared at something over Nigel’s shoulder. Oh fuck, the Asperger’s thing, Nigel reminded himself. They were going to have to pick up a book on that while they were out, Nigel keeping back hysterical laughter down at the casualness of that thought. 

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want.” Adam offered, not understanding Nigel’s discomfort. As long as they were careful, it was perfectly safe. His eyes flitted up and over the slightly taller man, picking up on his body language though Nigel’s face was devoid of expression, looking carved from stone. Adam’s offer made that stone turn to magma in an instant though.

“You can’t go out there by yourself!” Nigel growled out, glaring at Adam.

“Y-yes I can. I have many, many times before.” Adam stammered. It wasn’t like they had much of a choice in the matter. Whether Nigel agreed with him or not, Adam wanted to be prepared for the worst. Freezing to death was as about as appealing to him as getting eaten, and just as avoidable with proper planning and precautions. “You don’t have to go, but I need to do this.”

“Why?” Nigel made himself ask in a semi-normal tone. Otherwise he would have shouted it and scared Adam who wouldn’t understand.

“I just told you. We need…” Adam began again, looking perplexed enough to make Nigel want to scream.

“I heard. I know. I know.” Nigel started off soft but ended up at full volume, making Adam cover his ears as his blue eyes went wide. “Fuck, fuck, FUCK!”

“Why are you yelling? Why are you angry?” Adam said, backing away Nigel until his back hit the garage’s wall, the double layer of soundproofing he had made for it. He knelt down to cover his head with his arms, making himself as small as possible as Nigel breathed out curses in different languages, anger, and fear. Back in city and on the way here, he’d observed from afar too many survivors turn on each other like this. More scared of the living than he was of the dead, it was why Adam wouldn’t allow Nigel to have a gun or keep one on his person, moments like this too fresh in his mind. 

“I’m fine.” Nigel whispered upon noticing where Adam was and in what position, like he was expecting Nigel to hit him. Reeling his shit in and swallowing down fear that was making him sick and numb, Nigel got down on his hands and knees to make himself as small as possible, crawling over to Adam. “Fuck, I’m fine. I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m sorry I yelled at you. I’m fine. I promise I’m fine.”

It took Nigel curling himself around Adam, whispering apologies to make the other man unfold and look at him again. Adam ended up in Nigel’s lap, kisses and soft words being pressed to his temple and curls in a constant stream.

“I would prefer you to stay if you’re so apprehensive. You will be a liability.” Adam told him, letting Nigel rock them both in time to his words.

“I’m not fucking hiding in here like some useless cunt while you go out and risk your ass.” Nigel snapped before he could stop himself, making Adam jump in his arms. Nigel tightened his grip on Adam, keeping him there as he started to apologize again and resume rocking. Nigel knew one thing for sure though. As scared as he was, he wasn’t going to let this kid treat him like he was useless, or go out there on his own, confirming for both of them that Nigel was indeed a coward.

“What does anatomy, neither one of us have, have to do with it?” Adam blinked, losing complete track of this conversation. Nigel’s emotions and words seemed to be everywhere.

“For fuck’s sake. Remind me to stop at a bookstore or something, because odds are I won’t.” Nigel sighed, laughing sadly into Adam’s shoulder.

“Oh okay.” Adam said. They seemed to be getting back on track, but as per usual, Adam was being completely honest with Nigel. He didn’t want the man with him if he was that scared. Adam had observed too many times what fear could do, the mistakes it made people make. “If it makes you feel more comfortable, I can provide you with a weapon.”

“Okay, I’ll bite. What do you got?” Nigel asked, tapping down the argument he really wanted to have. He was still pissed he couldn’t have any firearms, but Adam was steadfast on this decision. As he let Adam go to help him up, it made Nigel wonder what Adam had seen or experienced to make him decide that. 

It turned out that Adam had kept himself busy and had a hell of an imagination. Nigel had never seen a more beautiful sight than the room Adam showed him, every corner of the former home office filled in with something sharp and brutal. Nigel particularly liked the bat with roofing nails driven into the widest part of the barrel in neat rows so thickly the sweet spot was shielded with flats and tips. The wood itself kept together in one piece and weighted by all the barb wire tightly wrapped around it, welded into place. The handle’s grip was enforced with braided leather and its knob was capped as well with a spike. Nigel fell in love with it immediately. 

“Fucking perfect. I'd like to get back to our primary agenda item now."

OoOoO

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Your kudos want a gun. Your comments go for the bat.


	7. The Evening Star, Love's Harbinger...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The evening star, Love's harbinger..."- Paradise Lost
> 
> A spacedogs chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. I got good reasons though. I've been homeless and living out of my car so not really in the right headspace to write anything. Doing better now though so here is your update. Enjoy.  
> Also, obviously I own nothing. Don't sue me.

Adam knew things had gone awry from the way Nigel was breathing. 

Despite all his careful tutorials about liquid oxygen which went into detail about its properties and limitations, Nigel hadn’t seemed to heed his warnings well about proper breathing and conservation. Between many vulgar expletives, most of which were in languages Adam didn’t speak, Nigel’s inhales and exhales were far too deep, too fast and too many. It distracted Adam from his objective, which was collecting mason jars and other ingredients for preserving fruits and vegetables. Even though Adam enjoyed the taste of jams and jellies, he wasn’t looking forward to making them. From what he had read, it was a messy process. Pickling vegetables appeared to be a far cleaner affair, but figuring out how to keep all the food they didn’t need at the moment was more important than putting off a temporary mess. If they wanted any sort of berries or fruit for winter, pectin and jars would have to be acquired.

After choosing a weapon from Adam’s workshop, Nigel had seemed to calm down, enough so that Adam felt comfortable with the Romanian coming along with him into town, though Nigel wasn’t helping him look for anything. Mistakes were being made, Adam setting the mason jars aside in his little red wagon to see what was going on outside. He was currently pursuing the contents of what used to be a small town general store. The owners of it were still behind the old timey registers in various states of decay, bumping into the counter that corralled them in as they reacted to what was going on outside. Something was happening, the walkers in the area being drawn toward the store, passing by its large windows. The suit’s helmet blocked out noise, but Adam was fairly sure he knew the source. 

To Adam’s dismay, Nigel was killing as many walkers as he could, bashing in heads and taking out kneecaps with his new toy and living for it as putrid fluids and decaying flesh knocked loose coated the makeshift mace and its owner. From the looks of it, Nigel had been at it for some time now, the once busy street littered with now motionless bodies. Doing some quick math, Adam winced at the answer he got. They were going to have to cut this shopping trip shorter than previously planned.

“Nigel!” Adam said, his Bluetooth already connected to Nigel’s own via their helmets and Adam’s electrical ingenuity. 

“Yes, my darling?” Nigel grinned as he brought down his new favorite thing in the whole entire world into the back of some poor dead fucker’s head. The walker’s skull caved liked rotted fruit.

“You have to stop!” Adam demanded, his voice getting louder than he liked.

“I know you prefer to walk around them, but this is far more fun. You should try it. It’s great exercise.” Nigel said, not hesitating in dispatching three more of the fuckers and delighting in how they hit the ground. They stayed down this time, likely forever. If Nigel could have, he would have spit on their corpses. Despite that minor drawback, Adam’s suits were amazing. The walkers didn’t register that either one of them were there at all. It was like being invisible. 

“That may be, but you are not going to make it back to the house at this rate.” Adam tried to reason with the overly active man who was rapidly running out of air.

“I beg your pardon? What was that?” That brought Nigel up short, a ball of panic beginning to form in his belly. It made the brief taste of victory quickly turn to bile in his mouth.

“Your air, Nigel. You’re using too much of your air. I told you the tanks could only hold so much.” Adam explained, wishing Nigel had paid attention to him the first few times he had gone over it in detail.

“What about a spare tank?” Nigel asked, because Adam always had a spare everything. He was the fucking MacGyver of the apocalypse. 

“You have the spare tank. I haven’t been able to locate another as of yet.” Adam sighed. He had gone all over this before too. 

“How much air do I have left?” Nigel’s mouth was so dry his throat clicked around the question. He looked nervously about, but the remaining walkers had already lost interest in him not that he was standing still and for now, completely invisible to them. Adam would have an answer. He was just that smart and Nigel wouldn’t doubt any answer he gave for a second. It wasn’t Adam’s fault he had been too damn dumb to pay attention.

“By my calculations, you have about an hour of air left.” Adam did some quick mental math. “You are going to have to take the helmet off at some point out in the open.”

“That won’t even get me halfway back to the house.” Nigel mouthed the words out roughly, the sounds of them raw with distress. He was a fox brought low again, predator turned prey in the blink of an eye. He would have to rabbit back to their hole if he wanted to live. “I’m going to die.”

Adam blinked rapidly, that particular thought having never dawned on him before. Now that he had heard it spoken aloud, it didn’t sit well, didn’t fit into his pattern of thinking. He knew they would all eventually die, that being the way of things, but Nigel not being there anymore with him didn’t equate. At some point, Adam had come to accept the odd man with the strange accent who constantly stayed by his side and clung to him. Nigel was more than some sounding boarding to throw his chatter at or a warm body to curl up with at night. Nigel needed Adam, but Adam needed Nigel just as much. He was just now realizing it, the force that realization making him rock in place.

“Promise me, my darling. Don’t let me wander around this fucking town like the rest of them. Blow out my brains…” Filtered in through the helmet, Adam realizing that Nigel was saying ‘good-bye’. Hitting his helmet to make himself stop, Adam fought back his panic so he could focus on what was important, the scared man standing right in front of him, the one who was giving up.

“No! No! No!” Adam yelled back, making Nigel jump in surprise who had never heard the usually quiet man hit that volume before. “NO! You are going to run back to the house! I know you can! I’ve seen you do it!”

“The odds are not in my favor, my darling. You have left every walker from here to there standing in my path. That is hundreds of snapping mouths to avoid. I am a betting man with the devil’s luck, and I wouldn’t even back me.” Nigel sighed, doing a mental count of what lay between the town and their house in the middle of nowhere. He had survived before by his wit, speed, and skin of his teeth, but even foxes could get proper fucked by hounds for being overconfident. Being found by Adam had been due to his pure dumb luck and piss poor sense of direction. 

“If I had known, I would have cleared them.” Adam started to say. “At the time…”

“Gorgeous, we can argue about this later if I live.” Nigel sighed, cutting off the explanation he had heard many, many times before about Adam’s process.

“You will live.” Adam stated like it was fact, and fuck, Nigel loved him for it. Not a moment’s hesitation or doubt in his beloved’s voice, delightfully blunt as ever. “As I have told you before, the suit you are wearing is double layered neoprene. The material was developed for abrasion resistance. Walkers can’t bite through it. Take off the tank when you run out of air, but keep your mask on. Protect your face and keep moving. Make it back to the house alive and lock yourself in.” 

“Brains and the ass of an angel. You’re the entire package, gorgeous.” Nigel grinned despite everything. “So you’re betting on me then? Will you blow me a kiss for luck, spaceman?”

“Luck has nothing to do with it. Based on your abilities, I calculate a negligible probability for severe injury or death if you keep moving.” Adam sighed, abandoning the wagon and mason jars for now. He was a turtle to Nigel’s hare in this race so he didn’t need anything slowing him down or hindering him. Adam knew he could always come back and picked up where he left off in town. Only the living stole things. “You can survive this. You’re smarter than they are, faster too. Calm down and reassess the situation.”

“I am completely and utterly fucked. That is the situation.” Nigel said, but made himself start breathing more evenly like Adam had taught him to.

“We can have intercourse when we get back, but right now, I need you to stay calm and focus. That is the only version of ‘fucked’ that I will accept.” Adam said, smiling as he heard Nigel take control his breathing. 

“Did you just make a joke?” Nigel laughed, the sound of it surprising even him. 

“I can do that. I can joke.”

“Fuck, I love it when you talk dirty to me. We need to work on your timing though.” Nigel said, looking around. He wasn’t about to run through the dead. Despite Adam’s confidence in him, he didn’t feel that damn lucky or want to risk tempting fate. Adam was right about one thing though. He had managed to survive all on his own for this long. Nigel knew that he may not have the amount of brainpower at Adam’s disposal, but that didn’t mean he was down for the count just yet. Adam’s unwavering faith in his abilities lit a fire under Nigel’s ass to fix this problem he had created. 

“I don’t want you do die.” Came softly spoken words, hitting Nigel’s heart with far more force than they should have. 

“I don’t either. I won’t.” Nigel answered just as softly back, and to his own surprise, meant it. Because fuck that. He had survived the burning cold. He had survived the sweltering heat. He had survived starvation and sentimental idiots and nutjobs with not enough brains and too much ammo for anyone’s safety including their own. He had survived innumerable walkers in all different shapes and sizes, some he had personally made but most that had found him. He had survived it all and he was going to survive this so fuck fear and fate and anything else that was trying to kill him. He had something no one else had. 

Nigel had his very one star right here on earth in human form, a shining light to guide his wayward ass home. The fear that had gripped him since the walkers first shown up and the world broke, that fear that made him weak melted into nothingness under that starlight. 

“Did you find everything that you came for?” Nigel asked, a plan already forming in his head. He was feeling more and more like the old Nigel with every passing second, the mean fuck that all of European underworld was afraid of, the self-made king with no throne.

“Yes?” Adam said, looking down at the wagon to peruse its contents. They might have to come back for more at a later date, but for right now, he was confident there was enough of everything to start experimenting with jam and jelly making.

“Perfect.” Nigel practically purred the word, his eyes alighting on a truck, the kind all American’s seemed to favor. Parked on the side of the street was a bright red, jacked up Ford F-150 with big ‘fuck off’ tires and custom grill, the cab high enough off the ground that even Nigel would have some issue getting right in. Nigel looked into it to find the truck thankfully empty. He also found it locked, something that was quickly fixed by the business end of the mace. The noise of it made Adam jump, Nigel using the butt of the bat to clear out any remaining glass so he wouldn’t risk the integrity of the suit when he reached in to unlock it.

“Why don’t you pack everything in while I sort this out?” Nigel said, brushing glass off of the seat as he pulled himself into the driver’s seat. Going straight for the steering wheel column, Nigel worked off a panel with the help of the former owner’s own tools left ever so conveniently out on the truck’s floor to start pulling out wires.

“Are you stealing this truck?” Adam said, nervously peeking into the cab to watch Nigel strip wires with practiced efficiency.

“Stealing is such a strong word.” Nigel said, calmly doing what he did best. “It’s more like borrowing. I fully intend to give this wonderful vehicle back to its owner if they ever choose to come and claim it.” 

“The likelihood of that happening is incredibly low.” Adam pointed out, watching Nigel cut and twist wires with precision and ease. Ethics and morality aside, it was very educational to watch, Nigel doing something Adam had only read about or seen in movies. 

“You don’t say. Well, imagine that. I guess we can keep it then.” Nigel mused, satisfied with his work. He jumped down to start loading up the truck with their jars and Adam, everything fitting into the cab despite how bulky Adam’s suit was. He buckled the spaceman in and then himself, knowing it was going to be a bumpy ride. 

“Do you have a driver’s license?” Adam asked as the truck sprang to life with a deafening sound. Adam was grateful for his helmet if the feedback from the Bluetooth was anything to go by. “Because I don’t have one. I only have an ID card.”

“We’ll worry about that if we get pulled over.” Nigel grinned, loving the rumble and noise of the ridiculous, tricked out vehicle they were commandeering. Swinging the truck out onto the road, Nigel’s foot punched the gas, the truck launching forward straight into some walkers who had taken an interest in their noise and movement. They splattered like bugs on the grill, Nigel making it a point to hit as many as he could on the drive back. 

“I think that is about as unlikely as the previous owner of this truck showing up.” Adam grumbled, trying to decide if Nigel was joking or not. He grimaced at the spray of body parts and viscera that coated the windshield, thick as mud but far more foul. 

“Is that why you always walk back and forth to town?” Nigel asked, hoping that he was wrong but somehow already knowing the answer. He needed to get a damn book about Asperger’s, Nigel cussing himself out upon remembering that they had forgotten to go to the bookstore while they were out.

“Yes. I’ve never felt comfortable with the concept of driving. Too many variables and everyone always seems so angry. Public transportation in New York was prevalent enough that it wasn’t an issue. Plus, I like to walk.” Adam explained, trying to distract himself as Nigel took out another round of walkers.

“I’m going to teach you how to drive. You should know how.” Nigel said, dying for a cigarette. He used to always smoke when he drove and Nigel always drove himself. It had pissed Darko off to no end, his partner in crime always riding shotgun whether he wanted to or not. They would be back at the house soon enough though for his nicotine fix. 

“I know how to drive. I fully understand how a vehicle works. I just don’t want to.” Adam stated, frowning despite knowing that Nigel couldn’t see it.

“Knowing how to and actually doing it are two very different things. I know you’re smart, but that doesn’t mean you know jack and shit about driving or having a feel for the road.” Nigel laughed as he carved out roadkill. 

“What does that even mean? What do esoteric concepts have to do with mechanics?” Adam sighed, mostly with relief as the house came into view. There were only a handful of walkers by the gate, but more would be on their way soon if Nigel kept the truck running for much longer. He watched as Nigel hopped out of the cab, the very bad man from Romania moving quick and brutal as he cleared the area. “Check thoroughly under the truck while you are out there. I don’t want you bringing any walkers in with us.”

“That’s why I love you, baby. You’re always thinking.” Nigel grinned, doing just that. Fuck, he adored Adam and his common sense, especially when he found what was left of a walker caught in one of the axles, the poor fucker still trying to get in one last bite. Nigel poked at the body with his mace until it dislodged. He left the persistent asshole do all the work for him, the corpse dragging itself out from under the truck just in time to get a face full of metal. He noted that Adam was unusually quiet during that time.

“Do you mean that or is it just an expression?” Adam asked after Nigel got them through the gate and locked up again. They were back at the house well before Nigel’s air tank was empty, Adam making a mental note to fill it. He would look for a spare later as well. 

When Nigel didn’t answer him right away, Adam told himself to let it go and that it was another turn of phrase that he’d misunderstood. It wouldn’t be the first time he had done so and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Adam just hoped that Nigel wouldn’t be put off by his awkwardness, reminding himself not to bring it up again as they pulled into the driveway. They would have to figure out what to do with the truck, if they were going to keep it or not. The garage was barricaded to Adam’s liking as well as already having a Bentley gathering dust as its occupant. The rest of the space had been converting into a workshop, Adam not wanting to move and rearrange everything for a truck they might not be keeping. 

They were back in the house under lockdown with all the jars and pectin, and stripping out of their suits before Nigel responded. He did this by gathering Adam up in his arms, under protest from Adam who preferred to check the suits for any damage and then shower off because ventilation in the suits was not applicable in its current design. Any words of argument were stolen off of Adam’s lips by Nigel’s own, his mouth consuming him in a deep, breathless kiss. It left Adam clinging to Nigel, his slighter weight taken on by the older man who gripped him in place, tight and secure. 

“Smart guy that you are, how can you ask such a stupid question?” Nigel spoke softly as Adam panted for air, feeling lightheaded from lack of air and a good portion of his blood going south. Nigel drew back far enough to trace him lips over Adam’s face, placing butterfly kisses where he saw fit. “How could anyone not love you? How could I not love you?”

“While I understand the concept of it, I don’t know what love is, not really. I don’t think I’ve ever been in love before.” Adam admitted while he could. He was beginning to become overwhelmed by all this sensation but in a good way, in a way he couldn’t explain. 

“My darling Adam, my very own star.” Nigel whispered, freeing up one hand so he could catch Adam’s face and hold it still. He looked into eyes that could have been their own cosmos, the colors they held in them. To both their surprise, something in Adam gave, the man melting lax and heavy against Nigel as their lips found each other again and again. They could have been one being for all the space left between them, Adam’s arms wrapping around Nigel in a vice like grip, his fingers digging into flesh hard enough to bruise. Nigel couldn’t give a flying fuck about the marks they would leave or the pain they inflicting, the pair only pulling apart long enough for air. That is why Nigel felt more than heard the words being pressed into his mouth like communion and blood wine. 

“I’ll always guide you home, no matter where you are.”

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Your comments drive the murder truck while your kudos navigate. Comments are life, you beautiful stingy potatoes. Leave one. Or many. I can't tell you how to live your life.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Your kudos hoard toilet paper. Your comments are trigger happy survivalist nuts.


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